


A Tarrasque on Bet

by BrotherBrain



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game), Starfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-01-05 08:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 111,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18362774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrotherBrain/pseuds/BrotherBrain
Summary: When Taylor triggers, her passenger reaches out, as it does in all worlds. But instead of connecting to the surrounding bugs it links to an outside influence and she manifests a different power: the ability to summon monsters from another world.





	1. Hatching 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> A soft crossover with Pathfinder/Starfinder that came about entirely because I thought it had cool monsters and the idea spiraled from there.
> 
> If you're squeamish about the locker scene, skip from the line after the Entities' POV to the last six or so paragraphs.

The entities spiraled through the void, passing around and through one another as their intertwining path caused them to overlap as they existed in the same space across different dimensions. To an outside observer, it would have been impossible to parse one from the other. In one dimension, enough of their shards existed to provide a phantom of a single being. In others, only a single shard. A view that encompassed the entirety of them simply was not possible according to traditional senses.

The two flew on through space, their destination determined. Space compressed, matter shifted to states less bound by physical laws, all in the name of increasing the speed of this approach. As they passed through space they harvested, stealing fragments of energy from hundreds of versions of each sun, small amounts of mass from thousands of alternate planets, reducing the drain on their resources. Such actions were subconscious to the entities. Their focus was elsewhere.

The Warrior cast its senses towards its partner. It had not gained anything in the exchange with the Other, leaving such matters to the Thinker and trusting any relevant information would be passed along to it.

_Curiosity._

_Satisfaction._

The Warrior did not pursue the topic further. Previously, its partner had expressed certainty in response to concern and now satisfaction in response to inquiry. The Thinker was not impaired and had benefitted from the intersection. The Warrior felt no need to inquire further unless an issue arose.

Something caught its attention. There was something ahead, near their projected path. This wouldn’t normally be notable. Many things often passed near or through their paths. But this thing was moving. Not in the limited sense that most things did but in the same way it was, the way its partner was.

_Detection._

_Concern._

_Disagreement._

_Curiosity._

The Warrior cast out its senses. The Thinker was occupied, its own abilities would have to suffice. The object responded unusually, vaguely like how a loose shard would respond to a broadcast. The response was there but lacking complex intelligence, relying solely on base drive.

_Trajectory._

_Disagreement._

_Anomaly._

_Agreement._

The Warrior reached out farther with its space altering power, adjusting distances and vectors so the anomaly would be close enough to intersect on their path without the entities themselves having to divert their movements. When the arrival eventually came it was drawn into them, wrapped in defenses pointed inwards in case it should prove to be a threat.

What it proved to be was fascinating. The object was of living material, but of a kind the Warrior could only approach by leveraging a multitude of its powers to shift to something far from anything resembling physical form. At the same time it was limited, frail.

The Thinker was watching, probing with its own senses, but it was also analyzing the gathered shards from the Other even as it refined their plan for arrival based on the new information. Even with their capabilities, there was a limit to how much they could do at once. The limit was high but with a task as intensive as a shard exchange, one they’d not had practice with in a long time, it was pushed by this new issue.

_Quarantine._

_Disagreement._

The decision was made. The plan could not afford for them to delay their arrival while they parsed this anomaly, nor could they afford the energy drain to keep it thus contained for the entirety of the cycle to dissect later. They would have to do this now, either assimilating what they could or discarding it by their findings.

Relying on its partner to aid or warn it, but knowing this task was largely up to it, the Warrior set about its own examination. It probed experimentally, a beam of energy effortlessly slicing a piece off to be drawn away from the whole. Though vastly smaller than the whole the piece maintained its anomalous properties.

The Warrior drew on its stored energy to manifest a new shard, small and lacking in purpose, before moving it to the fragment and merging the two together. The result was immediate. The fragment contained power, incredible power.

A probe of its senses investigated the matter, seeking the source. Neither the fragment nor the original mass had such energy that it could detect. Using the fragment now considered a part of the entity itself as a window into the whole, the Warrior investigated. No, the fragment didn’t have the power itself. It was merely an aperture, a recipient much as how hosts received energy from the shards. However, the origin was not the original mass.

It looked more. No, the mass was receiving energy too. Whatever the source was it broadcast to its fragments, whether that fragment was broken from the original or a fragment of a fragment. The Warrior leeched from this energy, drawing on it to power its attempts to follow the trail back and find the source.

What it found was incredible. Just as the entities passed through many versions of reality, all of these versions were themselves simply one branch of an array of alternate realities too vast for even it to comprehend. The source of the energy was a far simpler matter, originating from an alternate cluster of realities just as the entities dwelled in their own cluster.

_Discovery._

The following series of broadcasts were complex, carving apart what had been learned. The cycle could be expanded, moving on to other clusters just as their ancestors had moved onto different worlds. The Thinker replied as the Warrior began breaking down the anomaly for dissemination. Some shards were immediately fused with fragments to serve as a greater power source, reducing their draw on the entities’ reserves. Others were paired with sensory shards, locked into a loop of self-analysis to increase the collected information.

Their approach was near, shards already being shed in anticipation for arrival. The Warrior worked quickly, attempting to complete the integration of the anomaly even as the Thinker refined the plan in response to the changes.

It was too much. They were overtaxed between the anomaly and the recent shard exchange. With shards already gone and more departing every moment, the entities’ efforts were hasty, lacking the amount of foresight and planning that their actions usually had. In such circumstances, mistakes were made. The Warrior sensed as the Thinker cast off vital shards, only to falter as it found the replacements were insufficient. It felt itself waver as its attempts to complete the exchange of the anomaly continued without the Thinker to guide its actions, knowing that it was acting outside of the plan for the cycle.

The Warrior abandoned its work as it arrived, casting off the still separate pieces of the anomaly as it shifted itself to survive the impact. In the flurry of action and stimuli, it scarcely noticed a small piece of input. The Warrior could be forgiven for that. It wouldn’t be for some time that it constructed its avatar, and even then it would have depended on the knowledge of the Thinker to properly intake the information of the host species. The input was simple, an emotion that emanated briefly from every shard now fused with the anomaly.

_Hate._

* * *

 

I woke to the sound of muffled conversation. My first reaction was to try and shuffle myself farther under the covers to go back to sleep, but instead of the slight adjustment of comfort I’d expected the small motion brought half a dozen things wrong to my attention. The sheets didn’t feel right against my skin, the pillow under my head didn’t compress the way I expected, a breeze blew on my face when I knew my windows were shut and there were no vents in my room that would cause it.

I opened my eyes blearily and immediately jumped from “half-asleep” to “panic.” I definitely wasn’t in my room, and that was pretty sad that that was the entire list of places I could possibly wake up and feel safe. But even under the best of circumstances it wouldn’t be great to would be great to wake up in a hospital.

I was pretty sure that’s where I was anyways. Everything was blurry without my glasses, but I could tell the room was small and monotonously colored white with a chemical smell in the air. The bed was definitely a medical one. Either that, or a pretty good approximation of the ones shown on tv.

I raised myself up on my elbows, wincing a bit at unexpected discomfort. My back was sore, as were my arms, and I couldn’t remember why. I took a look at myself and the source immediately became clear. There were bruises on my elbows and parts of my forearms, with skin clearly scraped away on my fingertips and knuckles. Smaller scrapes and bruises decorated my arms and every bit of skin I could see was a faint pink, like I’d just stepped out of a really hot shower. With the way it stung when I brushed against the sheets though, it felt more like I’d been scraped raw.

I pulled up my sleeve, and sure enough the pink extended farther. That drew my attention to something else: this wasn’t my sleeve. I was wearing a hospital gown, not the clothes I’d put on for school this morning. I felt my face heat a bit as I realized that someone would have had to undress me to change me into this. The injuries I could deal with, but even the idea of being exposed like that made me cringe.

But the injuries… I didn’t think they seemed that bad, though there seemed to be a bunch of them. I poked one of my bruises, trying to remember what had happened. I’d woken up here and they’d put me in a gown, which all spoke to expecting me to be here a while.

Or I’d _already_ been here for a while.

Now I was starting to be afraid. I tried to slow my breathing before I started full-on hyperventilating. Okay, think this through. Last thing I remember. What was it? Where?

I wracked my memories, trying to distract myself from my current situation. I’d been at school, I remembered that much, the first day back from winter break. I remembered trying to blend in with the crowd, relying on the fact that everyone was wearing baggy winter clothes to try and hide myself, hopeful that the terrible trio might be distracted enough with holiday catch-up to let me slip for just one day. And then…

I couldn’t remember. I frowned, trying to think of anything that could lead me to memories of what had happened. I couldn’t remember any classes, so whatever it was it happened soon after I arrived. I shifted my weight in the bed a bit, trying to get comfortable, catching a whiff of that chemical odor in the process. The smell triggered something, a phantom memory of a different smell. I seized on it, trying to remember something, _anything_ that would tell me why I was here.

What was the smell I remembered? Not chemical, not food, but… rancid. That thought was enough. I remembered the smell, remembered what had happened. I immediately wished I’d left well enough alone and settled for ignorance.

I remembered the smell when I got to my locker in the morning, vile and rotten. I knew as soon as I smelled it that is was the trio’s work, but I’d assumed just jimmied the lock and filled it with stink bombs or something. It had taken me a moment to realize what I was looking at when I opened my locker, realize just how bad it was. And in that moment of realization hands grabbed me from behind, shoved me into the locker, and closed the door behind me with the sound of mocking laughter.

I’d spent what felt like hours in there. Maybe it had been. It was long enough to hear the bustle of people in the hallways going to class die off into silence, long enough to realize that _no one_ who’d seen me shoved in the locker had done anything about it. Face pressed into the mess on the back wall, unable to look out the slits, a coffin crossed with a septic tank. I’d screamed, slammed my back into the door, but no one had answered. I spent who knows how long trapped in that locker, unable to move, trying my best not to breathe because every breath made me want to retch, battering myself sore as I tried everything I could to push open the door or even make enough noise for someone to investigate. And then…

 I lost the thought as the door to the room opened. A nurse stood in the doorway with a clipboard. She looked up from it and blinked in surprise as she saw me. “You’re awake,” she said, seeming almost relived. The comment really didn’t help my fears that I’d been in here for months.

She leaned back out the door, closing it all but a crack as she said something to someone I couldn’t here before stepping back into the room. “Hello,” She said in a reassuring tone as she walked over to the bed. “Can you tell me your name?”

My first attempt at a response was just a rasp. Apparently my throat was a lot drier than I’d thought. I swallowed a few times and tried again. “Taylor Hebert.” I croaked. “How long have I been here?” Probably a bit rude, but I needed to know.

She gave me a look that seemed like a perfectly practiced mix of reassuring good humor and calming confidence. “You’ve been here a week and a half,” she responded, “Don’t worry, we already called your dad and he’s on his way.”

She gave me another look, this one closer to empathy at my situation. Or pity, if I wanted to be harsh. “Do you want me to wait with you until he’s here?”

Belatedly, I realized I was in some position halfway between curled into a ball and sprawled out. I forced myself to relax, settling into a more normal position. “Yes, please.”

She didn’t say anything in response but she grabbed one of the chairs along the wall and pulled it closer, sitting down beside me. She put a hand on the bed beside me, letting me take her hand if I wanted to. After a moment of hesitation, I did. The human contact was oddly grounding. I didn’t have a boyfriend, no one at school touched me other than to push me around, and Dad had never been the most physically affectionate even before Mom died. This was my first positive physical contact in I didn’t even know how long. A year, at least.

I grasped her hand more firmly. She picked up on that, squeezing my hand reassuringly. She also apparently picked up on that I wasn’t really in the mood to talk, because she didn’t say anything else. I wanted to think more about the locker, as much as I hated the idea of it. I was certain there was something else, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that with someone else right here.

Instead I thought myself in circles, dwelling on book plots and old movies I’d seen. It felt odd to do the same sort of daydreaming in a hospital. I usually only felt safe enough to zone out like this at home, another thing I’d given up to the bullying over the past year and a half of bullying. We sat there in silence for however many minutes until I heard the running footsteps approaching the door. A moment later it was flung open and Dad was there.

He looked bad. Not that I wasn’t happy to see him, but the almost desperate, forlorn look on his face brought back memories of the time shortly after Mom had died. I’d seen that expression on him a lot then and I remembered how bad things had been then for both of us. The idea that he felt that way again and it was my fault was almost as bad as my physical pain.

I could feel myself starting to cry. “Dad!” I didn’t yell so much as I choked the word out between the dryness of my mouth and the tightness in my throat, but I was loud enough for him to hear.

He rushed across the room to pull me into a hug, his thin shoulders shaking with sobs. “Oh kiddo,” he said, barely more intelligible than I had, “I- Oh God, I’m glad you’re alright. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

I hugged him back as tight as I could, beginning to cry in earnest now. I’m not sure how long we stayed like that desperately clinging to each other and practically bawling our eyes out. At some point the nurse had slipped her hand out of mine and retreated from the room to give us privacy, which I was grateful for.

Finally Dad let go of me and sank into the seat the nurse had been sitting in, still within easy arms reach. “Oh, Taylor.” He sighed, his voice cracking. The puffy red eyes and marks of tears on his face didn’t do anything to make his forlorn expression any better. If anything, I felt worse seeing that. When Mom had died he’d mostly withdrawn into himself, barely functioning or reacting. This was a whole new level of grief to see on him and it was gut-wrenching.

“Dad, I’m okay.” The rasp in my voice didn’t give the lie any credibility but it needed to be said. I wasn’t happy about it, but Dad didn’t handle grief well. He couldn’t afford to backslide into the same pall he’d been under since Mom’s death. _I_ couldn’t afford it.

It was a kind of sick irony that I was the one in the hospital and still felt like I needed to look out for my own father’s interests. If this was some sort of sick joke by the universe, I wasn’t laughing.

Dad, on the other hand, was, a short bark of a laugh without humor. “Okay?” he said disbelievingly, “Taylor, they told me what happened. The way they found… You were in toxic shock, they had to keep you under for a week and then you still didn’t wake up!”

My stomach turned at that. I didn’t know much about medicine, but even I knew that was Bad with a capital B. I’d always suspected that the Terrible Trio would put me in the hospital at some point, but for something like a broken bone after Sophia pushed me down the stairs. This was a whole other level.

“They told me how they found you.” Dad said quietly. His voice pulled me out of my thoughts to listen to him. His voice didn’t have that trembling quality it had before when he was afraid for me. “By your locker, covered with… stuff. How did it happen?”

I didn’t answer right away, scrambling for the right response. I’d been able to hide most of the bruises and the stains and the general mess left by the bullying and make excuses for the rest, but that wouldn’t work here.

I decided to go with the truth, or at least most of it. “Just some kids who thought it would be a fun joke.” I said.

“Who?” he asked. I could recognize the tension in his voice, it was the way he always sounded when I’d done something wrong and he wanted to yell at me. And on the occasions where it wasn’t directed at me, it was the way he sounded when he was collecting himself to verbally tear someone a new one.

I nearly cracked when he asked. The idea of telling him about Madison, Sophia, fucking _Emma_ , it would be a weight off my shoulders. But hearing his voice, seeing the anger in his frame, I knew that if I told him, he’d go after them. He’d try to sue them, sue the school, make the biggest mess he could and dig his heels in until they paid.

But I also knew it wouldn’t work. The school would be no help, they always seemed to be covering for them. I’d be lucky if they even admitted that anything had happened at all and didn’t try to 1984 it out of my head. The other students would never turn of some of the most popular people, that would be social suicide. Hell, Emma’s dad was a lawyer!

It wasn’t a fight we could win. And with how expensive I assumed the hospital bills to be and our general lack of funds in the first place, it wouldn’t be a fight worth picking in the first place.

So I lied. “I don’t know.” I said. “I was facing into the locker when they shoved me in. I didn’t see them and I don’t know their voices.”

Internally I was screaming. I was covering for them. A year and a half of torment, and I was covering their asses for what they did to me. The thought of it made me feel vile, but I bit down my desire to take it back and tell him everything.

Dad didn’t respond for a while. Maybe he thought I was hiding something, maybe he was just trying to process that he wouldn’t have a target to vent his anger on. The sick feeling in my gut now had a twist of guilt for lying to him. Great, some flavor for my misery. Just what I needed.

“If you’re certain…” He said questioningly, leaving it open for me to reply. I didn’t.

The conversation sort of trailed off after that. He tried a few half-hearted questions, but they were all about school, and he didn’t seem to get that my half-hearted answers meant I wanted to talk about something else. Instead he just stopped talking altogether, leaving us sitting in silence until a doctor came to talk to him.

Apparently I wouldn’t get to go home until tomorrow morning. Now that I’d woken up they apparently wanted to keep me for observation. Half of me understood, while the other half wanted to protest and go home now. If I was going to be stuck in a bed, I at least wanted it to be my bed, not to mention how much another day in the hospital would cost.

In the end, my desire to not die of a sudden medical problem won out and I didn’t argue. Dad left after that, discussing the particulars of my hospital stay with the doctor. I wanted to feel saddened at that, but I only felt relieved.

I lay back on the bed, trying to do my best to relax now that I didn’t have to try and fumble through a conversation. Dad was leaving, the doctors probably wouldn’t check on me so soon after one had just been in here, so I had time to think.

I took a deep breath as I started thinking about the locker. It wasn’t any easier to stomach this time, and bile rose in my throat. I gritted my teeth and forced it back down. I had weathered the Trio in person for a year and a half, and there was _no way_ I’d let a memory of what they’d done be the thing to break me.

There had been something off, I remembered that much. Now I just needed to remember what. Was it something before the locker? Inside of it? Or maybe…

I frowned as a thought crossed my mind. Something dad had said… He’d said they found me _by_ my locker, not in it. That… lined up actually. My memory was fuzzier towards the end, probably because I’d passed out a few times between the smell and trying to avoid it by holding my breath. But I did remember the locker opening and dumping me onto the ground along with a tide of filth

That was what was off. No one had done anything when the Trio tormented me before, why would someone do something then? Even with the locker no one had done anything, not when they saw me get shoved into it and not for what I hazily guessed to be an hour or so afterward.

So who let me out? A mystery Samaritan? A passing cape? A wry smile crossed my face. Or maybe just a normal person who didn’t realize it was me in there. Wouldn’t that be rich if they’d thought they were helping a stranger and regretted it once they realized it was someone they knew.

Maybe I could ask the school. I chuckled a bit at that. If I did, I could probably find them by asking who had gotten detention. It would be just like Winslow to punish whoever it was on the grounds that they’d spilled the mess in my locker into the hall.

But something told me that wasn’t it. There was something else, some little detail that was niggling at the back of my mind. I spent at least another half-hour going over that same stretch of memories again and again in slightly different ways before I realized it.

The sound. After the first period bell rang, I’d stopped screaming, trying to conserve my energy in case I heard someone walk by that I could call to for help. After the first half-hour or so I’d given up on breaking the door myself. I’d just sat there, quiet and still in my rank jail cell, listening for someone to come by.

But I remembered not moving or screaming when the door opened. That meant that I hadn’t heard anyone approach, and that didn’t make sense. Maybe it was a cape after all, how else could they have gotten to the door without me hearing them? I thought there were a few capes in the city that could do that. Maybe Velocity, or Shadow Stalker

I wracked my brain, trying to remember some other detail, some clue. A cape didn’t make sense though, why would they have been in Winslow? I remembered Shadow Stalker was a new member on the Wards team, so she could have been in a school, but the Wards went to Arcadia.

Then who was it? Try as I might, I couldn’t remember anything else, the memories were too fuzzy. I just remembered feeling trapped, alone, wishing someone had _done_ something instead of-

My thoughts were cut off by a noise halfway between breaking glass and a stone being crushed. I sat bold upright just in time to see the air above the foot of my bed crack. A spiderweb of glowing white cracks spread out through the air from a central point.

They simply hung there for a fraction of a second before they moved. The central point was pushed out and the ‘fragments’ of air seemed to collapse like shards from a mirror. Instead of falling they were drawn to the center, collapsing and folding together around a shape that seemed to be emerging from the broken air. I couldn’t be entirely sure if the thing came through the broken space of if the broken space had condensed into it, but in a moment the cracks were gone and there was something standing on my bed.

My breath caught in my throat from fear as I regarded the thing. As such a close distance, I didn’t need my glasses to make it out. It was about the size of a toddler, but it looked nothing like any toddler I’d ever seen. It stood on backwards jointed legs with a tail flicking in the air behind it. Its hands had only three fingers and its arms reached down almost to its first set of knees. Its head seemed almost flattened, a disk-like shape with six beady red eyes and a nasty-looking arrangement of teeth flanked by a set of mandibles. The entire thing was covered in a brown-black exoskeleton, with spines protruding from the edges of its head, along its spine, and at each of its knees and elbows.

I sat perfectly still, trying not to move in case that set it off. I stared at it. It stared back. Strangely enough, the fear I had felt moments before was fading away. In its place I felt something new, something alien to me. A connection of some sort, linking me to something else.

Panicked and recently awoken from a week-long coma I may have been, but I wasn’t an idiot. There was only one thing that could be on the other end of that connection that would make sense, and I was looking at it right now.

I sank back onto my elbows, my gaze still fixed on the creature in front of me. It clicked its mandibles and turned its head, regarding me with something like curiosity. My mind raced, trying to grasp the truth that was now so clear.

It had been a cape after all: me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Summon: Vexgit Gremlin (LE tiny fey, CR 1)


	2. Hatching 1.2

I barely had time to revel in my discovery, or even really register it, when I heard footsteps outside. I tore my eyes away from the thing on my bed and looked to the door. Of course someone was coming to investigate, it hadn’t exactly been quiet when it broke a hole in reality to crawl through.

I was actually panicking more now than I had been when it appeared. A mess of cracks shattering the air like it was a two-dimensional image was an unknown. A startling, mind-boggling unknown, but one that left me more stunned than anything. This was a threat that someone would find out something they could use against me, and that was something I knew all too well.

If a doctor saw this thing, I’d immediately be outed as a cape. Everyone in Brockton Bay knew what had happened to New Wave after they’d revealed their civilian identities, at best I’d be killed. At worst I’d have to go back to school as a known cape, the Trio would use that to tear what little remained of my life down, and I’d have the Birdcage hanging over my head if I ever tried to do anything about it.

Dying of a panic induced heart attack was really looking like the best option right now, but that wouldn’t do anything abut the footsteps still getting closer. I turned to the thing on my bed, which had turned around to look at the door itself.

“They can’t see you!” I hissed as loudly as I dared.

The footsteps were nearly to the door and I was about to grab the thing to stuff under my covers before it finally moved. It leapt down from the bed and skittered around the side, shoving itself into the crevice between the bed and the wall. A moment later the door opened and a nurse poked his head in.

He looked around the room, his expression a bit perplexed. “Did you hear something just now?”

My mouth was open to lie and say no before I thought better of it. Anyone else he asked would say yes, and then I’d be the one whose story didn’t match up. “Yeah,” I said instead, “What was it?”

He paused for a moment, and I was afraid my brief hesitation gave away my feigned ignorance. I was acutely aware of the thing hiding behind the bed, almost more focused on it in case it started to move than the nurse. Then he shrugged and stepped back out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I stayed tense for a few more seconds as his footsteps moved away from the door, then sagged back onto the bed. God, a cape for all of a minute and I already nearly got revealed. Wouldn’t that be an auspicious start to a heroing career!

A heroing career. The idea seemed so ludicrous, but I couldn’t really imagine anything else. A villain? Yeah, and get stomped flat in two seconds after the first hero to meet me punts my monster thing into orbit.

Still, I let myself dream a bit. Every moral thrown at me since I could read said the bad guys never won and crime didn’t pay, but considering how many villains were still around, I wasn’t sure how correct that was. Rob one bank, and I might have enough money to afford an actual high school instead of Winslow’s public cesspool. Pay off the medical bills I was racking up right now, fix that rotten step on the porch…

No, that was a dangerous path to go down. Rob one bank for some good reasons, and then I’d just keep finding more and more good reasons that warranted a major theft. Besides, villains… they were really just bullies on a larger scale, weren’t they?

I shuddered as I imagined people looking at me the same way I looked at Emma. No, being a villain would be a hard pass. I’d heard about mercenary capes though, ones who didn’t stick to a side. I dismissed that almost as soon as I thought of it. No, that had all the problems of being a villain plus the distrust that would come with selling loyalty for a paycheck.

I laughed quietly to myself. Daydreams were all well and good, but they wouldn’t actually help me. Being a hero was my best, and really only option. The city had a Wards team, I just had to… Just had to what, exactly? Walk up to them with a power I just got and didn’t understand asking them to take me on because of how nifty my monster thing was?

A quiet chittering sound came from behind the bed and the thing in question poked its head out of the gap. That promptly got rid of my relief.

“No!” I whispered, “Stay hidden!”

 It paused, then withdrew back to its hiding place. I paused for a second, making sure it would stay there, then sighed. Start small, deal with what I can, then work my way to the bigger problems. First, keeping this thing hidden. It seemed to understand that I wanted it to hide and it knew how to do that, so that was one problem down. Of course that, raised plenty of other questions about how smart it was.

Which brought me to part two: understanding my power. I could make some sort of beetle-thing and… that was it, really. It could apparently open a locker door, but that was hardly superhero material. I laughed quietly to myself again. That’d sure be intimidating, wouldn’t it? Taylor the hero, with the incredible power of having a bug-manservant to open lockers for her! I could practically see the criminals turning themselves in already.

So if I was going to do anything, I needed to learn more about my power. Of course, I _was_ still in a hospital. I doubted they’d just kindly choose to not notice me experimenting with a brand new power in one of their rooms. That’d have to wait until I was home then.

So on to problem three: learn more about the cape scene. Between “knowledge is power,” “knowing is half the battle,” and a dozen other trite phrases, it was pretty firmly ingrained that knowing what you were getting into was important. I couldn’t really disagree on that. I’d read plenty of cape magazines, several of which had even touched on Brockton Bay, and from what little I remembered I knew it’d be a supremely bad idea to pick a fight with a random cape if I didn’t know what I was getting into.

If I’d known I was going to get powers down the road I would have paid more attention to the articles about Brockton Bay, or checked out the Parahumans wiki-slash-forum I’d heard about. Well, I couldn’t do anything about the past, but I could work on now.

I shifted up onto one elbow and leaned off the side of the bed, craning my head to look back in the crack where my thing was hiding. It was pretty curled up back there and the shadows did wonders to obscure its form. If I didn’t know what I was looking at, I might have mistaken it for a novelty football or some kid’s toy.

“Stay there.” I said quietly, trying to impress on it the urgency of my request. “Do. Not. Move.”

It didn’t respond except to curl itself up a little tighter. I felt that odd connection I had to it twinge and I gritted my teeth a bit. Right, that. I’d been doing my best to ignore it and focus on my thoughts, which was simultaneously difficult and easy. Difficult because I couldn’t find a way to shut it out, easy because it didn’t really make enough sense to be anything more than a background hum.

I could tell it was there and that it was doing something, but it was in the same way I’d know a tv was showing me something if I’d just opened my eyes for the first time. It was plenty of sensation but no context to it and I didn’t have the experience to grasp the meaning. It didn’t hurt, which was a small mercy. Really, it reminded me of when Emma and Madison had pointed conversations about me within earshot. It wasn’t really something I could do anything about, even ignore, but it didn’t really do anything to me.

I tried to derail that train of thought before I started dwelling on the bullying again. Cape stuff, that was what I needed to focus on. It seemed like this was the best I was going to get from my minion thing, so I rolled over a bit farther to snag the call button dangling from the heart monitor they had sitting next to my bed.

It took a minute before a nurse came in, the same one who’d come by a little while ago asking about the sound. “Sorry to bother you,” I said, completely meaning it, “But do you have a computer or something I can use? I’m going to be here for a bit and I didn’t really get to bring anything with me.”

An understanding look crossed his face and he nodded. “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

With that he was gone, leaving me alone again. Well, as alone as I could be with a monster under my bed. Or behind it, if you wanted to be technical. It hadn’t come out, which proved that it either understood my commands or it was just naturally averse to beings seen. I hoped it was the first. If it was the second, it would be pretty hard to do anything as a cape when my power was a natural coward.

The door creaked open and I perked up. But instead of the nurse, it was Dad. “Hey kiddo,” he said, a touch regretfully, “I’m sorry, but I have to beat it back to work. I can come back later tonight, bring you some dinner.”

I felt a bit torn at that. By all rights, I should want to share a dinner with my dad. We were so distant, I should reach to him trying to reach out with open arms. But at the same time, that distance made it awkward. It just wouldn’t sit right forcing a dinner like that. And with how our conversation went earlier, I wasn’t sure if I’d be up for giving him a chance to continue questioning me about school.

“You don’t have to,” I said, shaking my head, “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

“Oh, Taylor, no!” he hurried to reassure me, “It’d be fine. I can swing by that Italian place, maybe Fugly Bob’s?”

That almost made me reconsider. Food was always good, and I had a hollowness in my stomach and a bandage on my arm that made me think I’d been getting fed through an IV drip for the past week and a half. “No, it’s alright. Besides, I’ve been asleep since I got here and I leave tomorrow morning. If I let you bring me dinner, when will I get the chance to try hospital cuisine again?” I managed a smile at that, trying to make a joke. It had used to come so easy, or maybe I just hadn’t taken anything serious back then.

It seemed to work though, because he grinned a bit in return. “Ah, yes, the gourmet spread of a hospital. How could you turn down such a feast? I can still come by around dinner anyways, just so you have someone to talk to.”

I was already shaking my head, and I felt a bit guilty about that. “No. I’m… still trying to process things. I just want to be alone for a while.”

His face fell at that. In that moment, I remembered how he’d withdrawn into himself after Mom died and I wondered how much I reminded him of himself. “If you’re sure.” He said reluctantly.

“Yes. Thank you though.” My voice was quiet now. I didn’t trust it not to break if I tried to speak louder.

He bobbed his head twice, a sort of defeated nod. “Alright. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to pick you up.”

“Thank you.” I said again. “I love you.”

He managed a weak grin at that. “Love you too, kiddo. See you tomorrow.”

He stepped out, letting the door swing shut behind him. I sighed and flopped back onto my pillow again. Why was it this one conversation twisted my stomach as much as the Trio’s teasing? After a moment, I reconsidered that. Maybe not all their teasing, Emma’s always had a way to get at me. Whether that was because of the specific details she’d learned about me during our years as best friends and now turned that against me, or just the general sense of betrayal, her barbs were always the worst out of the Trio. Madison and Sophia though, they usually just threw insults at me until something stuck.

Still, the answer was pretty obvious. It all came back to Mom’s death. In the months afterwards he’d withdrawn almost entirely into himself, to the point where he barely acknowledged me. Even two years and some months later, that gap between us still hadn’t fully mended. Now I was the one enforcing that separation and that left a bitter taste in my mouth. Even if he hadn’t succeeded, he’d tried to bridge that gap, and by working against it I felt like I was spitting on his efforts.

I groaned, rolling uncomfortably on the hospital mattress. It wasn’t like that, that had been months of self-enforced solitude. This was just one day, a measly twenty-four hours where I wanted some space to think. I hoped, at least. Who knew what he’d said to himself to justify that time.

I tried to shake myself out of those thoughts, looking for something else to focus on. Where was that nurse? Wanting for options, I turned my attention towards my connection to the thing behind the bed.

I tried to pay attention to it just a little, cracking my metaphorical eyelids. It didn’t really help. The stream of whatever-this-was just kept being there, stubbornly refusing my attempt to take a peek. I wanted to try and focus on it more, but I got the sense that would be a terrible idea to do in a public space. If focusing on it switched our brains or let it possess me or something, the last thing I would want to do is try it out in the middle of a hospital.

Still, though I couldn’t quite grasp what the connection was giving me, I still felt something. I didn’t notice it at first, only when I gave up and tried to ignore it again. In between the attempts to understand the connection, I’d found my eyes absentmindedly focusing on other things. It was mild, incredibly so. I only noticed because once I stopped focusing on the connection I found myself slightly confused at my focus.

Hesitantly, I tried to tap the connection again. Now that I was looking for it, if could feel it set in. Almost unconsciously I found my eyes draw to certain things. The overhead lights, the heart monitor, the doorknob. They weren’t glowing or special or anything, they just seemed more interesting than the other things I could see.

Strange. Was this some other facet of my power? Did having this thing here do something to my perception? I turned my head to look at the other side of the room, trying to see what I would focus on there in case it helped me narrow down the nature of the effect. But when I looked to the other side, I didn’t feel anything.

It took me a minute to realize as I paid attention to my own eyes to see what involuntarily caught my interest, but nothing happened. I frowned, closing one eye and then the other. This made even less sense than it had before. I looked back to the other side, and sure enough, I found my attention drawn to those same things.

I groaned, letting my head sag into the pillow. Why did powers have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t I have gotten flight or super strength or lasers? Instead I got some weird bug monster that can open lockers and-

And… a connection to it. A hunch crossed my mind and I leaned over the side of the bed to look at it. It was in the same place it was before, curled up and watching through the crack between the bed and the wall. More specifically, it was watching out the side that let it see the part of the room where I’d noticed my focus changing. That was worth checking.

“Turn around.” I ordered, “Look out the other side.”

It did so, uncurling its tail from around itself and unfolding its legs from where it’d held them tightly against its body, spinning around awkwardly in the cramped space before plopping back down. Once it had moved, I looked up to the side of the room where I’d noticed the effect before. Nothing.

I turned to look at the other side of the room, the side it was now looking at. It took me a minute to notice again, but it was there. My focus settled on the window frame of an open window and an electrical outlet this time. That was definitely interesting.

One question answered at least. Whatever it was, it seemed to be limited to what the thing saw. But that still raised a dozen new questions, most prominently being what that weird focus was about anyways. With the heart monitor and the lights I might have thought it was drawing my attention to electrical things, but it had also singled out the windowsill and a doorknob.

And that was just the tip of it. How did that focus even work? It hadn’t done anything when I was trying to ignore the connection so it clearly required me to be perceptive to it. Maybe the thing acted like some sort of living modification to my brain, changing how I focused? But then why did the thing have to see the same thing as me for it to work?

It could just be really complicated. I’d heard about powers like that, where they had strict or bizarre qualifications for when and how they worked. Maybe I had to see something to the basic input, it had to see the same thing for cross-reference, and then it broadcast the final result back to me. But why even do that in the first place? I knew not all powers were great, but a mild focus on random items seemed more like a character tic than a superhuman ability.

I groaned again. God, I _really_ just wanted to go home where I could test my power in peace. Luckily, my frustration was soothed by the return of the nurse. Better than a desktop, he’d brought me a computer tablet. It was encased in a lilypad green protective case with frog designs on it and a clip on one side that probably hooked to a security cable, though the spiderweb of cracks across the screen indicated that neither measure was very good about protecting it. Still, it was internet and I’d accept any cracked screen or slow connection if it meant something to do.

He slowed just enough to tell me to buzz again if it got low on charge, then left without waiting for my thank you. A but rude, but I couldn’t blame him. This was a hospital, he probably had more important things to do than bringing one girl a computer. I was still relieved at his haste anyways. The bug thing hadn’t made any move to come out when he arrived, but the sooner he was gone the less chance something could go wrong.

I turned on the tablet and quickly swiped to the internet browser. One search later and I was looking at the homepage for Parahumans Online. I hadn’t really used the site much before, but I still had a decent idea of its layout. I started skimming pages and opening links, keeping one ear on my bug thing in case it tried to come out.

The main page and its related links were all news pieces and reports. Interesting if I wanted to check up on the Triumvirate or read the newest Endbringer attack projections, but not very useful to me unless Brockton Bay suddenly became a national focus.

What I wanted was the forum and wiki that were part of the site. A few searches for Brockton Bay in both, a few secondary searches based on what I found, and soon enough I had nearly two dozen tabs open.

My initial suspicions were correct, being a villain was off the table here. The only cape villain groups in the city were just the gangs I already knew about, and none of them were good options. The Azn Bad Boys were out simply by virtue of my ethnicity, even if the list of their major enterprises didn’t turn my stomach. The Empire 88 was a collection of assholes ranging from racist to neo-Nazi, not anyone I’d be caught dead working with. The Archer’s Bridge Merchants were the only ones without heavy undertones of racism or discrimination, but they dealt almost entirely with drugs, and I’d seen enough kids at school go down that spiral to stay away myself.

It really said something about the state of the city that it had three major gangs all run by capes, and all of them were majorly shitty. Not like a gang could really be much else, I’d seen the constant tensions and fights between the kids in Winslow who decided it’d be fun to run with gang colors. And that was just the kids in school. On the streets, it was surely much worse, and I’d heard enough PSAs from school to know that.

There were a few other links on the Brockton Bay villain community, but nothing else major. I didn’t even have to click the links to know they weren’t as important, since none of them even had proper names. Still, I opened them anyways. No harm in reading a little more.

As expected, they weren’t much. The one labeled Coil’s Organization led to a single page about a guy trying to move in on the city with unpowered mercenaries. The entire article was a measly five sentences long, with a bright read header box talking about how the subject of the page still wasn’t confirmed as a cape and how the article might be deleted.

Faultline’s Crew was slightly more promising. They didn’t seem to be strictly villains but mercenaries like I’d considered before. Still, the list of their known jobs definitely seemed to skew more towards villainy. Besides that, their introductory paragraph said they were only based in Brockton Bay, while their job list noted them showing up all over the country. Moral quandaries aside, that wouldn’t work anyways. This city was my home, Dad’s home. I wanted to help it, not abandon it to go fight someone else’s crimes, as selfish as I knew that was.

The last page was the least helpful, simply labelled “unknown criminal group.” It was even shorter than Coil’s page, just a few sentences about a group of powered thieves. Membership unknown, activities unknown, and a red box at the top talking about how the information on the page was unconfirmed and subject to review.

Besides that, there were a few links to independent villains in Brockton Bay. The only ones I recognized on the list were Über and Leet, while the rest were unknowns. Circus, Grue, Hellhound. A lot of names, and a lot of potentially unfriendly powers.

I switched tabs to look at the Wards in the city. Their pages were pretty well fleshed out, mostly with information from press releases and the odd Protectorate-sanctioned interview. Despite that, the pages didn’t really seem to say anything about them. Nothing but the bare-bones details of their powers, nothing about them as people. It made sense, I supposed. If someone could just read a wiki to learn all about the heroes’ powers and tactics, cape fights would probably end pretty poorly for the good guys.

Still, what I was reading painted a picture. Triumph, enhanced strength and a sonic shout. Aegis, flight and incredible durability. Kid Win, a Tinker with a hoverboard, laser pistols, and who knows what else. Vista, with the very vague power of spatial distortion. The list went on. Seven different capes, all with powers that packed a punch.

And on top of all that there was still the Protectorate presence, which was led by Armsmaster. Anyone who’d heard about the Protectorate had heard of him. He was one of the top ten capes in the whole organization, plastered in all the group shots of the big names and with more merchandise to his name than any other cape in the city.

All in all, it was a strong team. Looking back to the Wards, my best option to be a hero, they were big guns. I leaned over the bed again, looking at my bug thing. Curled up and crammed behind a bed, it looked small, timid. It had freaked me out a bit when it appeared, but as soon as I realized what was happening it hadn’t been very scary. In fact, I was pretty sure anyone who saw it could probably panic and kick it across the room without ever realizing what it was.

It really was a crappy power. With everything they could already do, they didn’t need me. They probably wouldn’t even _want_ me. What was I hoping for, anyways? That a group with a time-stopper and two different people with super strength suddenly found a need for a knee-high monster servant, with a scrawny loser along as a bonus? Maybe they’d hire me out of pity, make me the one who read them stuff from a computer or made them snacks for when they were done beating up the villains.

I realized I was tearing up and roughly wiped my eyes. No. _Fuck_ that. I was a loser at school and a loser at home, but I would not let myself be a loser as a cape.

I flipped through a few tabs, trying to remember a detail that had caught my eye. There, on Shadow Stalker’s wiki page. She was a Ward, but she’d been a vigilante before. That was my ticket. My power might not be the best, but I would make it work. I’d learn to use it, do the hero thing on my own, and once I’d racked up enough successes, proven myself as a cape, _then_ I’d reach out to the Wards.

I found myself nodding, determination setting in. If I showed I could still be a hero with a weak power, on my own no less, they’d have to accept me. And once I was a Ward, thing could only get easier, right? Going from a solo act to getting backed up by those big-name capes would be like a vacation. Not to mention the idea of getting paid and transferred to Arcadia High with the rest of the Wards.

I grinned at that thought. If I hadn’t had enough incentive to prove myself as a cape before, that certainly did it. To get away from Winslow, from the Trio, from Emma… I’d fight gangs until I dropped for that kind of reward.

So I changed back to the page about Brockton Bay’s villains and started reading. To join the Wards I needed to do well, and to do well I needed to know what I was getting into. I ignored the independent villain and speculative pages for now and focused on the gangs. I couldn’t do much about one or two villains on their own, but I could definitely do something about all the drug dealers, thugs, and other gang members that plagued the streets. I just had to make sure I knew the villains that might be backing them up.

Some of them I recognized from warning PSAs and police reports. Lung and Hookwolf were the big ones, but there was also the likes of Kaiser, Oni Lee, and Krieg. It was pretty clear that the E88 was the main threat, with almost as many capes as the local Wards and protectorate put together. By comparison the ABB only had two capes, while the Merchants had a scattering of weaker ones.

Also interesting was the number of villains that were listed as inactive or relocated. They didn’t seem as immediately important, but I wanted to be prepared. So I read about Purity, Night, Fog, the Butcher, Marquis, and a dozen other villains that ranged from too minor to care about to major threats that had luckily moved on.

I combed through the wiki, trawled dozens of forum threads, and looked up a few news articles. When my focus started to waver I shifted gears, looking up things to help me be a hero. I needed a costume, and while I couldn’t exactly order one online, I could still get an idea on what I needed. Besides that I looked at classes, skills I thought could be useful to me. I didn’t have a lot of money, not more than two or three hundred dollars I’d saved up from allowance and birthday gifts, but that would be enough for some weekend courses.

I debated whether to sign up for some martial art or self-defense class, but I decided against it. If I figured out how to work my power and got lucky, I’d never have to actually fight someone myself. A first aid course was more tempting though. Being a hero wasn’t just about fighting bad guys, right? It was about helping people and that meant knowing how to help them if they were injured. After checking the price and address, I made a mental note to myself to look up the sign-up site again once I got home.

At one point a nurse interrupted me, bearing a tray of food. I set the tablet aside so she couldn’t see the screen and took my food, eating it while she checked me over. A piece of stringy chicken, some soggy green beans, a cup of water, and some almost tasteless gelatin almost made me wish I’d taken Dad up on his offer for food. Still, is suspected it could have been a five-course meal and it still would have been tasteless. The whole time the nurse was there, I was too nervous that she might see what was hiding behind the bed.

I mechanically shoveled food into my mouth while keeping an eye on her the whole time. Luckily, she was either dedicated to her job or was just going through the motions, because she didn’t look at anything that wasn’t directly related to her purpose there. Still, I only relaxed when she left. I set the food tray aside on the side table and pulled the tablet out almost as soon as the door closed, quickly getting back to work.

My research came to an end sooner than I’d thought when the tablet buzzed and flashed a 5% battery warning at me. I looked up for the first time in hours, realizing that the sun had set at some point. I quickly closed all my tabs and deleted the history before the battery could die. It wouldn’t be very good if the next person to use it found all my at least somewhat incriminating web activity.

That done, I set the tablet on the side table and leaned out of bed to check behind the bed. The bug thing, or rather, _my_ bug thing, was still where it had curled up hours ago. I didn’t know if it got impatient or uncomfortable, but if it did my orders apparently trumped those. Or maybe it was just asleep.

Though thinking about that, I realized I had a problem. How was I supposed to get it out of the hospital without anyone noticing? I couldn’t count on Dad bringing me a bag big enough to hide it in, or that he wouldn’t notice how full it seemed even if he did. Maybe I could get it to go out through the air vents, or drop it out the open window? Neither of those seemed like good ideas. People would probably hear something that big crawling through the vents, and I couldn’t be sure no one outside would see me throw it out a window.

I stewed on that for a while, trying to think of some angle I could use to get my bug thing out unseen. And on that topic, I realized I needed a better name than “bug thing” or “monster” or the other half-dozen names I’d been referring to it as in my head. Despite my tension and worried thoughts, I found myself drifting off to sleep. I tried to resist at first, but my ideas soon became cyclical or nonsensical, and my already half-asleep mind quickly gave into the thought of leaving those problems for tomorrow morning.

Just as I slipped over the threshold into sleep, I was woken up again. I jerked awake as a loud noise sounded through the room. In that half-awake moment I registered strange shadows being cast across the room before the room was suddenly cast back into darkness. More importantly, I recognized that sound.

Panicked, I reached out for the connection I’d been stifling. Whatever had happened, I couldn’t let it! Nightmare scenarios ran through my mind, of the thing being freed from my control or an entire pack of them appearing in the room. It wasn’t big or dangerous, but in a hospital, there was no shortage of the week and feeble for it to prey on.

My panic soon gave way to confusion as I found nothing. No connection, no muffled and confusing input. It was gone.

I leaned over the side of the bed and looked in the crack behind it, grabbing the tablet and using its last flagging battery to turn it on and use the lit-up screen as a makeshift flashlight. Nothing. The thing wasn’t there anymore.

Or it was completely unleashed from my control. I squashed that pessimism as I put the tablet back and laid down again. There wasn’t anyway for it to get out of the room that I wouldn’t have noticed. And with that burst of light, I was pretty sure that it had been that same cracked space that summoned it in the first place. Since there wasn’t a second one in here, I felt safe assuming that the disturbance had been it returning to wherever it had come from. Well, relatively safe. Maybe sixty, seventy percent.

A doctor poked his head in, presumably summoned by the change in pulse they’d read from the wireless patch stuck to the back of my hand. I made excuses about a nightmare and he left, leaving me to try and sleep again.

So it vanished when I fell asleep. Useful for maintaining a cover, but not so great if someone knocked me out and I needed my minion to free me. At least that was one question off the list.

Still, as my heartrate slowed again, I noticed something I hadn’t before. It was the same sort of strange perception I’d had of my connection to my bug thing, something I knew was there but wasn’t quite tied to any of my senses. It was an energy, as best I could describe it, thrumming and tense.

It reminded me a bit of when I got sick and I had felt the tension in my muscles before I threw up, a sort of preparation foretelling what was to come. That could be a problem. I took a deep breath and let it out, trying to let the energy die away the same way I’d tried to stop myself from hurling. Of course, it hadn’t worked then, but I had hope.

Slowly, I felt it begin to fade. No, recede. The energy wasn’t weakening or going away, but it was withdrawing, settling back into a more stable position, less primed to go off. This really wasn’t an ideal situation. A small bug thing that I might summon any time I got startled or woken up. Pretty low benefit for a power that could give me away to an alarm clock.

With that rather sarcastic thought, I let myself fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually hadn't planned this chapter ahead of time, but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. Summoning a monster in a hospital has its consequences after all.


	3. Hatching 1.3

True to his word, Dad was back at the break of dawn to take me home. I returned the dead battery tablet to the staff with a half hearted apology, he filled out some final paperwork, and we were in the car on our way home before the sun was fully above the horizon.

The ride wasn’t as awkward as it could have been, but it was still less than ideal. Dad had picked up food on the way to the hospital, something from one of those fast food places that offered breakfast foods in the morning but changed the menu when it got to noon. That was a good distraction for a few minutes as I scarfed the meal down, but once it was gone I didn’t have anything else to distract from the silence.

Minutes passed without a word from either of us, the only sound the thrumming of the engine. The sun finally finished emerging as we got from the inner city to downtown, the skyscrapers giving way to shorter, squatter buildings. Still, neither of us had said a word since getting in the car.

Dad finally spoke first. Probably a good thing, I don’t think I could have. “So…” he ventured. “I have a meeting to talk with the principal later today. If you want to stay after school, you can-”

“No.” I cut him off. My voice was louder than it had been yesterday, but there was still a rasp around the edges. “I… don’t want to go to school just yet. After…”

I trailed off. Dad waited for me to finish the thought. When a few seconds went by and I didn’t, he nodded understandingly. I didn’t miss the expression of regret that crossed his face.

“I just don’t want to go back there so soon.” I said. I didn’t elaborate on soon in terms of my memory instead of actual time, but he seemed to get it. As foggy as the memory was, it still felt like it literally happened yesterday.

“I understand.” He said. Dimly, I felt like I should be offended by that. Wasn’t that supposed to be a teenager thing, yelling about how their parents didn’t really understand them, much less what it was like to be shoved into the most disgusting locker on the planet? No, that was stupid. I might was well get upset when people say ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘excuse me.’

“Do you want to stay home for the rest of the week, go back on Monday?”

I half-nodded, then paused. “Um, what day is today?”

“Thursday.” He supplied.

Thursday was good. Two days to plan without Dad around, then another two before going back to school that I could use to get some practice. Those last two might be tricky though. Dad would notice if I went out early at night, so I’d have to wait until he went to bed. Or I could make an excuse to go out and do it during the day.

A problem I could deal with when the time came. Really, I didn’t think the days mattered much. Dad’s expression and voice were steeped in sympathy and remorse. I was pretty sure that I could convince him to give me the rest of the month off of school if I pushed it.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I said. No need to get greedy, two days should be enough. Plus, I would feel bad if I exploited his regret for not having been able to do anything for me.

“Okay.” He said, bobbing his head a bit. “I’ll have to leave for work pretty soon after we get home. Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” I reassured him, “I’ll read a book, watch some tv. Might take a bus to the library if I get antsy.” The last part I tacked on as an excuse if he got home early and found me gone. Not entirely a lie, I did have some more research I wanted to do, but I had other goals besides the library.

That seemed to satisfy him though, and he didn’t question me about it anymore as we pulled into our street. A few minutes later and I was watching him drive away to the Docks. I gave it a few minutes more in case he realized he forgot something and came back. Once I was satisfied he was gone for good, I got to work.

First things first, supplies. If I was going to be a hero I needed to have a costume and tools. The tools would be easier. I went through the kitchen first, scouring the drawers for anything I might find useful. After that I moved on to the closet, the basement, my room, and, with some reluctance, Dad’s room.

It wasn’t unproductive, but it wasn’t a stellar success either. The big item was assorted tools I’d found in the basement and scattered through various drawers. I imagined those could be useful for something, maybe fixing some important machine or dismantling a deathtrap. Problem was, there were a lot of different tools and they weren’t exactly light or convenient to fit in my pockets. After some debate I kept a small screwdriver, one of the dual-head ones that could do either crosshead or slat screws, and put the other tools back where I’d found them.

Everything else was pretty minor. A small pad of paper and a pen, which I kept in case I needed to take down notes on something I overheard or saw. A flashlight for when I needed to move around in the dark. Some large bandages from a first aid kit that I hoped I’d never have to use.

The other big find was from Dad’s closet. Fun fact, apparently working at the Docks meant owning a lot of work boots, and that meant he had plenty of old pairs he wouldn’t notice going missing. It took me a bit to try on and test out the different pairs before I found the pair that fit me the best. They were water proof, durable, with rugged soles to help keep my footing on uneven or slippery surfaces. In other words, perfect to use for my costume.

Not that I really had any ideas for a costume. There were a few options I could think of when it came to costumes, none of them good. The first was to order or buy one, but that was just begging someone to track the purchasing request and find me out. The second and more appealing one was to make it myself.

Thinking about that now, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made the right choice. Sure, it meant no one was going to trace me by some internet order, but it also meant that how good the costume looked depended entirely on my own skills. That might not have been so bad if I’d done any more sewing that patching the occasional hole in my jeans before, but I really just wished there were more options.

Still, things weren’t hopeless. Plenty of capes, I knew, worked with minimal costumes when they were starting out. Shadow Stalker, to use a local example, had been going around in a dark hoodie and a painted hockey mask until the Wards had recruited her a few months ago. If it came down to it, I could probably get by with a mask and some nondescript clothes.

A quick purview of my closet confirmed that not only did I have some nondescript clothes, I apparently owned nothing but. Still, that made things easier. I picked out a hoodie and a pair of jeans that I thought would work, setting them aside. I still had to find something for a mask, but they were a good start. They could work even better if I dyed them, maybe in a pattern to form an insignia or a design.

I made a note of things I wanted, both for supplies and my costume. I did it with the notepad I’d picked out for my supplies, giving me a bit of a thrill for using my hero equipment. Even though I was alone, I tried to stifle the stupid grin on my face. Really, only I could be excited about making a note in a way that happened to be tangentially related to being a cape.

Once the list was done, only a half hour or so after Dad had left, I left the house myself. I was careful to lock the door when I left and left a note for Dad on the kitchen table about how I’d gone to the library. If I got home before him, as I planned to, I could destroy the note and he’d be none the wiser that I’d ever left the house.

I did go to the bus station on a route that went to the library, but I didn’t get off there. I continued riding, keeping my head down as we passed stop after stop. People got on and off, including one particularly belligerent drunk with an openly displayed triple E tattoo that made me glad I was wedged as far back in the bus as I was.

Still, for a moment I wished I wasn’t as I watched him shoot nasty glares at a pair of black women sitting across the aisle from him, making them half shrink back from his obvious hostility. I felt my power surge at the edge of my mind, the energy I’d felt before nearly bursting free. I could imagine my monster taking form and…

And what, exactly? One bug thing attacking a man at least four times its height, what good would that do besides outing myself in public? I sighed and let the energy retreat back to its corner in my mind, pulling back much more slowly than it had come up. He was only glaring, true, but it pissed me off that someone like him could openly display gang allegiance, intimidate people on a bus, and get away with it.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself, not an easy thing considering I could still see him. The tiny bright side was that he served as the perfect example of why I was doing this, what I wanted to fix in Brockton Bay.

Another deep breath and I forced myself to still. Soon I’d be in a position to do something about that. Soon. I took another glance at the guy, who was muttering drunkenly under his breath, those around him clearly drawing away from him. Not soon enough.

The bus pulled into my stop and I got off before I talked myself into doing something stupid and started walking to my destination. I was still wearing the work boots I’d chosen. If I was going to be fighting crime in them I needed them to be broken in for my feet. I’d overheard enough Docks workers complaining about blisters from poor-fitting boots that I didn’t want to suffer the same fate while running for my life from a Nazi knife dog.

The bus had taken me to the north side of town, where houses and stores gave way to infrastructure. Most of it was warehouses, but the part I was going to was the Trainyard. Technically part of the docks, it had used to be a major part of the city back when the Docks were a major port. But then the local industry had collapsed and the ensuing riots and protests saw ships run aground or deliberately sunk.

With no ships coming in through the port, there was no cargo being brought in and no way to bring cargo out. And without the boats, the trains stopped coming too. There was still one small part of it that saw use in the western side of the city, but most of it had been written off. What was left was a sizable area filled with overgrown train tracks, rusted cargo cars, and piles of scrap and garbage left by squatters and people too lazy to make a trip to the dump.

People had tried to section it off over the years, but that just resulted in a confusing network of chain-link fences that split the whole place into pieces. All in all, a nice secluded place I could test my power in peace without being seen by or hurting anyone.

Getting to the Trainyard proved easier than getting into it. I had to walk for a few minutes to find a gap in the fence large enough for me to squeeze through, which just left me with the prospect of repeating the whole thing to get far enough from the edge that I didn’t risk being seen by any passerby.

It took me twice as long to find a good spot as it had to walk there from the bus stop, with a half dozen fences climbed or squeezed through in the process. The area I picked was one of the smaller ones, only about as big as the first floor of my house. The rusted out hulk of a caboose filled most of the space, while piles of scrap metal littered the rest. Looking around I could see pieces of a corrugated roof, a bike missing its wheels, a small lockbox, and a dozen other pieces of junk. Given how new some of it seemed, I really had to question whether it was laziness or stubbornness that had seen someone make the same journey I just had while carrying that stuff.

I wiped some dew off the hitch of the caboose and sat on it. Then I tried to use my power. Nothing happened. I frowned, trying to “reach” for the energy I’d felt before. It was still there, coiled in the back of my mind. In the hospital, when it had been about to activate, I’d thought of it like being on edge to throw up. Feeling at it now, the analogy held up.

When I was little I’d gone to parties with my parents, the kind that a few families got together to throw. I remembered gorging myself on the food people had brought, mostly the desserts, until my stomach felt full to the point of bursting, where every footstep I’d made as I ran around with the other kids saw gorge rise at the back of my throat. The energy felt that, swollen and full though I couldn’t place the sensation to any part of my body. There was a sense of instability to it, like it could easily be set off, but apparently just trying to activate it wasn’t enough.

Bouncing my foot a bit in impatience, I tried to think back. Why would it work before, but not now? It had gone off in the locker and at the hospital, and it had nearly activated when I was woken up at night and just now on the bus. What was the common thread?

I could rule out anything to do with my physical condition, I hadn’t been hurt or even really in danger at all except for the locker. Maybe a perception of a threat? That one felt closer, but when I’d activated it in the hospital I hadn’t been afraid. Maybe the memory of being in the locker had been enough, but that didn’t feel right.

I tried running through them one by one. The locker, when I’d been trapped, disgusted, and afraid. The hospital, when I’d remembered the locker. Again in the hospital, when I’d been startled awake. On the bus, when I’d seen the thug and wanted to do something about him.

Just thinking about that made me mad again as I remembered how I’d wanted to throw him off the bus. That seemed to do something, because I felt the energy start to stir. Then I turned my attention to it and it died down again as I stopped thinking about the incident. Not great, but it was something. It stirred when I’d felt angry, and had died down when I got distracted.

That didn’t feel like it either. I’d been mad then, but I’d been afraid, disgusted, surprised, and curious at other times. It could be that any intense emotion would set it off, but that would leave me the problem of trying to deliberately incite myself to anger or sadness just to use my power.

I groaned, putting my head in my hands. Why did powers have to be so frustrating? None of the interviews I’d read ever talked about the hero having to spend hours just learning how to turn their power on. I just wanted to try and test my power out, was that so much to ask?

A noise cut through the air, a sound of shattering and crushing, and I felt the energy decrease a little. I stiffened a bit, then hesitantly raised my head from my hands. There in front of me was my beetle thing.

I groaned again and looked up to the sky. Great, another data point on a very confusing chart! I supposed I could add frustration to the list of emotions that might trigger it, if nothing else.

Still, nothing to be gained by continuing to groan about it. My beetle thing, and I still needed to come up with a better name for it, was here and now I needed to test it.

Which of course reminded me that I had no idea how I’d go about that.

“Do you know how I should test you?” I asked it. Naturally, it didn’t answer. Ungrateful little thing. At least no one was around to see me make a fool of myself for asking my own bug monster for advice.

Was it even capable of speech in the first place? It had made some clicking noises before, but that didn’t mean it had the right mouthparts to actually talk. For that matter, I wasn’t even sure if it was smart enough to speak. There was an easy enough way to figure that out though.

“Can you speak?” I asked. It didn’t say anything, but it also didn’t nod, shake its head, or give any other sort of answer.

“Okay. Nod if your answer is yes, shake your head if your answer is no.” I told it, making the motions as I spoke so it knew what I was telling it. “Can you speak?”

Again, no answer. I frowned. Maybe it couldn’t understand me, but when id told it to stay still in the hospital I had done what I asked. Unless I had been asking it to do something it would have done anyways?

“Stand on one foot.” I told it. Immediately it lifted up one foot, standing balanced on the other. Well that ruled that out. Good thing too, I couldn’t imagine a more useless power than summoning a monster that doesn’t obey you.

“Stand on both feet. Raise your hand. Put your hand down. Spin in a circle. Jump.” It obeyed each command without hesitation or error. It followed each order perfectly, so why didn’t it do what I’d asked it before?

I regarded it with a mix of curiosity and frustration. In the light of day its carapace gleamed like a beetle's, its numerous eyes seeming to glitter with… something. Maybe it was an issue of intelligence. I decided to try something new.

“Raise your right hand.” It did. That was interesting. I hadn’t explained what left or right was to it, but it knew which hand to raise anyways. I ran it though a few more orders and found that it understood right and left, clockwise and counterclockwise, and how to skip. Or at least it did when I gave it orders involving them. Whenever I asked it to indicate one of those things, I just got the same blank response.

That proved something, probably. I didn’t know exactly what that meant for my power, but it seemed smart enough to follow my instructions but failed whenever I asked it to do anything that required it to think instead of act, even if it had just shown it knew the answer.

Just in case, I told it the rules for Simon Says and ran it through the game. After five minutes without a single mistake on its part I gave up on trying to trick it. It always ignored the orders it was supposed to ignore, and even when I made its instructions deliberately confusing it seemed to understand and obey perfectly. So the first benefit, it was very good at following orders.

But that still left the issue of how effective it would be at carrying them out. I had it race me the length of the caboose, then ordered it to try and lift the lockbox. I wasn’t in great shape, but it was clear that it was weaker and slower than me. Not by as much as it might seem, considering it couldn’t be more than two feet tall, but that just meant it wasn’t as bad as it could be.

Maybe I was one of those capes who had a lot of weak minions instead of a few strong ones? I tried to concentrate on the energy and pull it out like I had a few minutes ago. It didn’t respond, though I couldn’t be sure if that was because I was doing it wrong again or if I could only have one bug thing at a time.

I kept trying, hoping that I’d hit that point of frustration that had seemed to work previously, but I kept undoing any irritation I felt with the acknowledgement that I _wanted_ to be irritated. Then I got frustrated about how I ruined the frustration, then ruined _that_ by acknowledging it, and so on. Why did powers have to be so hard? I just wanted to know how it worked!

I was startled out of my cyclic frustration by the sound of the air breaking again as another of the bug things manifested. At the same time, I felt the energy decrease a little. I stared at it for a moment as it stood next to its twin, both seemingly oblivious to the difficulty they’d put me through.

Okay, okay. I could do this. What had I done differently just now? I didn’t think I’d been any more frustrated than I already was, there hadn’t been any external change that I could notice. So something else internal?

My thoughts, maybe? I’d been thinking about wanting to understand my power, but that didn’t match with the other times I’d used it. I tried it again anyways, trying to focus on wanting to understand my power.

Nothing happened. I tried again, this time focusing on my desire to know my limits, to find any drawbacks, to see if I could make a larger group of creatures. The last one got results and I felt a bit more energy drain off as a third bug thing took shape.

I would have done a little cheer, maybe gloated to myself a bit, if only I actually understood how I’d done it. As it was, my confusion and self-directed frustration trumped my sense of victory. There was no way that specific line of thought was the only way I could purposefully create my creatures, so it had to have fulfilled the criteria I actually needed to do that. But what was that?

Irritated, I stuffed that question in the back of my mind. I really wished powers came with instructions, but I could deal with that issue later. For now I had a workable way to create more bug things.

I concentrated on the thought again, trying to draw on more energy. Again the energy decreased and again one took form. From how much it drained when I created each of them compared to the total amount, I was pretty sure I could get a good couple dozen before I ran dry.

Of course, that would have been too convenient for me. Instead I got five created, then ran into a block. I felt the energy rise up just like before, but it seemed to hit a wall just before it could create a bug monster. I was innately aware of how the energy seemed to press against the air a few feet away from me, trying to form another monster, but it just couldn’t.

I sighed and let it die back down. I wanted to punch something in frustration, but the only things around were my bug things and a bunch of scrap metal that would probably break my hand. I felt like I was running into more limitations than strengths on my power the more I tested it. It was hard to summon the bug things, they were generally weak, and I couldn’t even make up for their problems with sheer numbers!

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the caboose. I could feel my connection to each of the five thrumming in the back of my head, each like an entire extra sense I still had no clue how to use. I groaned low in my chest and forced myself to open my eyes again. Self-pity wouldn’t help me. This was the power I got, and it was up to me to do something with it.

The five bug things had clustered around me in a loose semicircle, pincered mouths clicking as they watched me. It was slightly unsettling, but they were my creatures, created by my power and will. If they were actually a danger to me, there was literally no one I could trust.

“Turn around.”

They obeyed, swiveling 180 degrees to look away from me. With five of them all in different positions, it gave them a good visual coverage of the area. That was what I was counting on.

I remembered the influence the one in the hospital had caused on my focus. Now I hoped I could actually test what that had been about. Just like then it took me a few minutes to zone out enough that my focus shifted, with each time I tried to pay attention to it resetting my progress. Eventually I had settled on a few items as the focus of attention. The lockbox, the ruined bicycle, some chunks of circuit board and wiring, and a padlock hanging from a chain that locked off two unconnected pieces of fence.

The last of those caught my attention. My memories of the locker were fuzzy and I couldn’t remember whether they’d put a lock on it or not. I didn’t think they had, but at the time I could have noticed I’d been busy screaming and doing my best to thrash given my cramped prison. I also didn’t think they’d do something like that by half measures.

So the locker had probably been padlocked. I felt like that should have made me uneasy seeing another lock like that now, but instead I felt more curious than anything. If there had been a lock, and I was choosing to assume there had been, then my bug thing would have had to get through it to get me out. That made this sort of fixation on the lock here more notable.

Could they pick locks? It would be a weirdly specific skill set for a monster to have, but potentially useful one. Or maybe they just had some other generalized ability to open things or dissolve metal. Worth a test, if nothing else. “You in the middle,” I said, picking one of them out at random, “Unlock the padlock.”

So far my bug things had always obeyed my commends as soon as they heard them. This was different, not because it disobeyed, but because it seemed eager to obey. It bolted for the fence at full speed, quickly hauling itself up the chain-link to the lock.

I couldn’t see what was happening with its body between me and the lock, but I heard a rapid clack of metal and chitin tapping together. A sharp metal ping split the air, and a second later several somethings hit the ground below the bug thing.

It climbed back down the fence, somehow managing to exude self-satisfaction despite being silent and having no recognizable body language to speak of. The chain now dangled loosely from the fence, the padlock nowhere in sight.

Curious, I walked over to it. There on the ground beside the bug thing’s foot lay the padlock. Well, most of it. A few inches away from the main part of it sat the shackle, apparently having been pulled free. The more I looked, the more pieces became apparent, springs, screws, and pins all glittering in the dirt and very much not a part of a single mechanism anymore.

I picked up the body of the padlock and looked it over. Sure enough there was nothing inside it anymore. It looked like it had been disassembled, with all of its internal parts pulled out and scattered. I mentally bumped up my bug things a notch on the usefulness scale.

Sure, breaking locks wasn’t much compared to the powers the various villains of the city could bring to bear, but it meant access to places I otherwise couldn’t get to. That alone was invaluable if it could get me out of a dead end or help me maneuver around some gangbangers. But that seemed like the low end of the scale. With how good they were with following orders and the fact that they were already small enough to squeeze through air vents and windows, it was very promising regarding their ability to go out and screw with gangs without me having to put myself in danger.

Though that depended on whether the padlock was a unique situation. My gaze fell on the lockbox, abandoned from when I’d tried to have the first one lift it over head. “Destroy that.”

I didn’t specify one of them, curious whether the same one would recognize it as a continuation of its last order of if they’d all pick up on it. It turned out to be the latter, because all five of them lunged for it with startling eagerness.

In less than thirty seconds the metal lid was torn free and thrown out of the frenzied group. Two split off and leapt onto it, while the others continued to attack the box itself. Watching the two at the lid, I tried to get a better sense of what they were doing. As far as I could tell they were just clawing and grabbing it, but it seemed far more effective than it should. They managed to undo screws and pry into seams without any tools. A few seconds later, the lid was split further into its outer and inner panels, the portions of the locking mechanism held between them quickly torn out and scattered.

In less than a minute, the lockbox was utterly dismantled. My five bug things clustered around it, and I got the impression they were showing off. It was endearing in a way, like how I’d presented my drawings to Mom when I was little. Except instead of a little girl with a crayon drawing of Alexandria, it was a bunch of Master monsters with a destroyed lockbox. So, small differences.

I directed them to the bike next, then the computer parts. With both they tore the things apart in seconds, scattering the parts in the dust. With the computer parts they got more vicious about it, wrenching the circuit boards between them to snap the parts in half and scraping through the silvery connections on the surface. I wasn’t sure whether that was because the computer parts were easier to break than the metal pieces of the other things, or if they just disliked electronics more, but I didn't really have the resources to test it further. One thing I could be sure of was that I was glad I hadn’t tried testing them like this at home.

I looked across the parts scattered across the ground and found myself grinning. This was it. This was something I could _do_. Maybe I couldn’t beat down Kaiser or round up dozens of thugs in one fell swoop, but from the looks of it, I could be very good at sabotage. It wouldn’t be glamorous, I would probably never make front page news, but it was still something useful.

I paced a bit in front of my bug things, feeling a glimmer of self-important pride as I noticed them moving their heads to track my movement. What would gangs need most to operate? Phones to communicate, vehicles to transport men and product, whatever tools and machines they used to make their drugs or any guns they kept. Those could all work as targets. I found myself liking the idea as I built on it. Precise strikes, not meant to take down the gang members themselves, but to hamstring their logistics.

Or maybe I could do more. I glanced down at my bug things, who were still obediently siting in silence. I could always make more, right? I could afford to have them try to take out fuse boxes or phone lines. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. It made me feel callous and cruel. Luckily it wasn’t a choice I had to make right now, but if push came to shove, I was pretty sure I could. A solo vigilante couldn’t afford to give up an advantage, right?

I looked up at the sky and found the sun was pretty high up there. If I wanted to try and get some shopping and research in today, I’d have to wrap up testing my power soon. But that came with its own hurdle. I still didn’t know how to get rid of them.

I knew they would vanish if I fell asleep, but I couldn’t just take a nap in the middle of the Trainyard. I could probably just kill them, but just the thought of ordering them to stand still and let me put them down made me feel dirty on the inside. Surely there had to be some way to undo or despawn them.

I stopped that line of thought abruptly as an idea occurred to me. I almost wanted to smack myself for overlooking the obvious. “Hide under the caboose until I come back. Don’t let anyone see you.”

The five quickly scampered under the caboose and out of sight. I bent down, looking underneath to see if I could spot them. Nothing. Satisfied that they had things handled, I left to make my way out of the Trainyard.

I was aware as I got further away that my links to them weren’t weakening. In my opinion, that was another point towards their usefulness. Once I eventually figured out what I could do with the links besides just know they existed, I could make use of them over a significant distance.

In my head, I started keeping track of how far away from them I was. It would have been easier if I could just go in a straight line instead of cutting sideways through cross-streets to avoid the more dangerous areas, but I was pretty sure I was keeping track well enough.

It was at about fifteen or sixteen blocks away that I felt the connections snap. I was alarmed at how much it affected me and I had to lean against a wall for support. Active connections weren’t something I’d had any experience with for more than a few hours over the past few days, but having them abruptly snapped like that felt like I’d lost a part of my body. That feeling more than anything hit me with a certainty that if I went back to the Trainyard, I’d find they had vanished just like the one in the hospital.

The energy seemed to react too, withdrawing more tightly into itself. I had the faint sense that it had been at least partially invested in the connections, but with them gone it was snapping back to its default state. Another thing I’d have to figure out later.

I groaned and pushed myself off from the wall. Of course it was. Why couldn’t powers have instruction manuals?


	4. Hatching 1.4

“Hey, Earth to Taylor.”

I jerked myself out of my thoughts and turned back to Dad. “What? Yeah?”

He frowned and leaned across the booth table. “Are you doing alright? You seem kind of spacey.”

It wasn’t hard to connect the dots of his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t thinking about… _that_. My brain just went off on a tangent.”

He didn’t look like he entirely believed me, but he didn’t press the issue. I really wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. I had basically been avoiding him since getting home. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to avoid him than that I had more important things to do than talk with him… Yeah, that wasn’t much better.

Sure, I felt bad about it, but I couldn’t entirely bring myself to regret it. My power may have been weak, frustrating, and confusing but it was still a power, and that was pretty cool. I’d spent the past few days either shopping for supplies or practicing with my beetleings, as I’d taken to calling them.

After the first day of testing how they worked, I’d moved on to basic tactics and strategies. I probably didn’t need to actually have them summoned for most of it, but it helped give me an idea of how well they could work in the field. I hadn’t gotten to actually test them in a fight yet, given that I wasn’t willing to attack them myself or have the fight each other, but I still held to my initial idea that they weren’t great at fighting.

It made sense once I’d gotten the chance to see them in action that first day. Their small size and skill at breaking things painted an image of stealthy saboteurs rather than violent brawlers. At least I was pretty sure they were stealthy. I hadn’t wanted to risk having them sneak by other people so I’d tried to have them start at a particular point, then sneak past me to a goal.

That plan had promptly fallen through when I was trying to spot them and accidentally leaned too much into my connection to them. After spending a minute picking myself off the ground from the burst of mental noise, I’d realized I had been able to feel where they were through the connection.

Further testing had confirmed that. When I embraced the connection, I could feel where they were in relation to me in the same way I could tell where my hand was even if my eyes were closed. It had been a useful trick to learn, even if it was annoying that my power seemed to show it off specifically to screw up something else I was trying.

I realized I’d been getting distracted again and shook myself out of it. I belatedly realized Dad was talking and had been for a while, trying to fill the empty space of conversation with idle talk about the Docks and the news from the mayor about the ferry. This I did feel bad about. He’d tried to reach out and take me out to dinner before I had to go back to school, and I was still ignoring him.

I forced myself to reply and take a bite of my burger. Or at least my half of the burger. As with all things Fugly Bob's sold, a burger was big enough and piled with enough cheese, sauce, and toppings that just looking at it could fulfill your caloric needs for the next week. I was fairly certain I could feel my arteries clogging with every bite, but it was the kind of greasy, fatty comfort food I needed with the prospect of school tomorrow looming over me.

I took another bite and looked across the restaurant when someone caught my eye. A few tables away, a girl sat at a table with her family having her own dinner. She didn’t stand out to look at, but what had caught my attention was that I’d seen her looking at me.

She looked familiar, that kind of familiarity when you see someone in the hall or classes all the time but never actually met them. A knot of dread twisted in my gut. I did recognize her. She was one of the girls that followed the Trio around. Not one of their immediate cronies that took part in their “pranks” but one of the crowd that liked to follow them around to feel cool by association. What was her name, something with an A? Alyssa? Amanda?

The fear grew as I kept staring at her. There was no way she didn’t recognize me, no way she didn’t know what happened two weeks ago. She might have even been there as part of the studio audience from hell. I kept staring at her, my worries growing worse as I dwelled on them. She’d probably pass on to the Trio that she’d seen me here, eager to earn favor with some morsel of information they could use to torment me.

At best I could look forward to a barrage of fat jokes for the next few weeks, completely ignoring the fact that all of them probably ate here too. More likely they’d make something up about how I had to be bulimic to eat here and still stay bone thin. Hell, they’d probably say I ate here because I liked throwing up. If they were really nasty, they’d go beyond rumors and bring it to the school counselor with fake concerns about my health and I’d be in for a bunch of obnoxious counselor meetings and pamphlets. Again.

I took a moment to morn the time before Emma had turned against me, when I wouldn’t have been able to come up with such torments just by wondering what I was in for the next day.

As I was thinking, the girl looked over at me again. She paused when she saw me looking at her, looking a bit surprised. We both sat there for a moment, holding each other’s gazes across the room. I wondered what was going through her head, if there was even an ounce of guilt in there.

Then she smiled at me, gave me a little finger wave, and turned back to her family. In that instant I felt like I was back at Winslow, with smug grins and mocking comments needling me from every passerby.

The fear in my gut abruptly condensed into anger. No. _No_. I was a victim at school, but I would _not_ let them get to me outside of it. The thought didn’t abate as my hand clenched into a fist under the table, Dad’s conversation barely a murmur in my awareness anymore.

I could imagine going back to school tomorrow. Two weeks later, whatever grace period I might have gotten from coming out of that locker covered in filth would be gone by now, even if I hadn’t been there to enjoy it. It would be back to normal when I showed up tomorrow. The teasing, the thefts, the assorted humiliations. It would be like nothing had happened.

I’d gotten powers over that. The thought came to me in a weird detached clarity. Even if I ignored the horror and disgustingness through some herculean feat of will, my life had been irrevocably changed by that day. In some way that idea felt worse than the torments themselves would. For something like that to happen, for everything to change, and the ones responsible still carry on like nothing was different?

I could almost feel the exact moment when the anger twisted into determination. No. I wouldn’t let that happen. Going back to Winslow as the same person I had been even two weeks ago wasn’t an option. Maybe I couldn’t change things there, but school wasn’t my entire life.

I was a victim at school, but not outside of it. I had one night left before going back and a power itching to be used for something other than practice. I wasn’t going to waste them.

* * *

 

It was 11:00 by the time I was certain Dad was asleep, but I waited another half an hour before crawling out of bed and getting ready to go out. By then I’d been lying awake for a good hour and a half, listening to any hints that might tell me if Dad was still up. Even after all that waiting, I felt a niggle of fear that he might suddenly be awake as I went to my closet and retrieved the things I’d stashed at the back.

My costume was… well, it would have been easier to list the things it wasn’t. Good, for one. It was mainly just a bunch of cheap and sturdy clothes I’d chosen mainly for their generic appearances. A dark grey hoodie with a black t-shirt to wear under it, dark jeans that had taken forever to find in my size without “fashionable” rips, and the work boots formed most of it. I’d managed to snag a bandanna to tie over my lower face as an impromptu mask, plus a set of old gloves for my hands. I wasn’t sure if the Protectorate would sweep for my prints to try and find out my identity, but it was better safe than sorry.

The only part of my costume that had more detail put into it was the goggles. I’d snagged a set of yellow-lensed goggles from a sports store at a decent price, the kind people used when they went diving in caves. They’d do to help obscure the upper part of my face, but they had another purpose. One of the many painful lessons I’d taken away from the Trio was that glasses were fragile, and I hardly imagined being a vigilante hero would be a gentle job. So I’d popped the lenses out of an old pair of mine and spent an hour on Friday to glue them inside the goggle’s frames. They didn’t fit perfectly, so they sat suspended in glue I’d had to pile up in the goggles frame before putting them in place. The result was something that both obscured part of my face and let me see, ideally while hiding the fact that I needed glasses in the first place.

The result wasn’t great, but with the bandana and goggles hiding my face and my hair tucked into the hood, it did a decent job at hiding my identity. I’d wavered a bit on the hair thing before deciding to keep it out of sight. Given my general figure of thin and flat in all the areas I didn’t want to be, my hair was really the only part of myself I considered attractive. Still, between being able to assert some fragment of body positivity and not getting recognized as the thin girl with long curly hair, I chose the option that wouldn’t lead to me getting tracked down and murdered.

I had plans for the costume, though none that were really feasible in the short term. Some form of protection would be nice, but body armor I wasn’t exactly something I could buy at the supermarket. Maybe I could order some online, but that was just begging someone to look into why I needed it.

I’d considered trying to harvest the exoskeleton from one of my beetleings to repurpose as armor, but had decided against it for a couple of reasons. The first was that I wasn’t even sure if I could do that. They vanished entirely if I fell asleep or they went out of my range, so I couldn’t be certain they wouldn’t do the same if they died from, say, having someone rip their external skeleton off their body. The other was that it just felt weird. They did anything I asked without question, so making them submit themselves to be slaughtered and collected for parts felt like abusing that relationship.

Since armor was out of the question, barring some very convenient finds in the Trainyard, I’d focused my planning more on camouflage. It fit my general plan as a cape better anyways, since I wanted to work from behind the scenes while my beetleings did the work. I’d seen some nature documentaries about how camouflage worked by breaking up a silhouette, so I’d gotten a few different types of dye in various dark blues and greys to use in blotches. As a spur of the moment thing I’d also grabbed a container of the dark red with ideas about dying some sort of insignia into the chest of the hoodie. I would have done that already, but with Dad around it wasn’t something I could do in a quick timeframe without him noticing or staining my own hands. So I was going out undyed and hoping for the best.

Costume donned, such as it was, I went to the accessories. A cheap fanny pack fit around my stomach, of a generic color that blended in pretty well with the hoodie itself. It didn’t have much in it, just a pad of paper, some bandages pillaged from the house’s first aid kit, and a compact but bright flashlight. There was a small bag of chalk dust too, another impulse buy when I imagined fighting invisible enemies.

A more recent addition was a tube of pepper spray Dad had pressed into my hands after dinner. He’d told he it was because he noticed me going out more and wanted me to be safe, but the timing and the way he did it made it pretty clear it was more as a backup measure in case someone tried something like the locker again. I found the gesture oddly heartwarming. What did it say that the most direct support I’d gotten from him over the past few days was his implicit permission to attack my classmates if they gave me trouble?

I stifled those thoughts as I stuffed it in the bag with the rest of my things. Now was not the time to be thinking about that sort of stuff. Right now was time to be a cape, focus on what I could do. Sabotage gangs, clean up the streets, protect people. I did my best to ignore the part of my mind that doubted I could do any of those things. Cape and civilian problems separate, that was the thing to focus on.

It was with a mix off anticipation and trepidation that I slipped out the back door and started walking towards downtown. I’d thought about this moment plenty over the last few days, trying to imagine what it would be like the first time I set out in costume with the intent to be a hero. The nervousness and fear I’d imagined, though not quite as sharply as I was actually feeling them in the moment. The way my hot breath made the bandanna stuffy was something I hadn’t anticipated, but I resolved to ignore it, just like I was doing my best to ignore my anxieties about how ridiculous or suspicious I might look to someone who saw me.

It wasn’t long before I crossed out of the neighborhoods and into the areas where the gangsters and crack whores lived. The boundary was almost immediately, shifting into dingy apartment buildings and warehouses where it had been townhouses and picket fences just a block or two ago. It was a bit depressing how short the commute was.

Part of my research had been looking into which gangs operated where. I wanted to avoid the E88, because they had a lot of capes and an encounter with the gang had a higher chance of involving one of their powered members. I wanted to avoid the ABB because even though they had only two capes, I was as good as dead if I happened to run into either of them. So I’d settled on hitting the Merchant’s territory, at the border between the Docks and downtown. They had more capes than the ABB, but none of them were particularly powerful, so I was reasonably certain I could get out alright even if I ran into one of them.

I wasn’t quite sure how long I walked, ducking through alleys and skirting streetlights to avoid drunken wanderers, streetside whores, and other passerby. Maybe an hour, maybe more or less? I made a mental note to get a watch for the future.

As I kept walking and avoiding being seen, I started paying more attention to the passerby who clearly weren’t drunks or whores. I was 90% sure they were members of the Merchants just going by the fact that they were bold enough to walk around alone at night. I contemplated just piling one with five beetleings, but sighed and gave up on the idea almost immediately. I doubted the police or the Protectorate would be interested enough to come pick up a single subdued criminal, much less one I couldn’t be certain was a criminal in the first place and had nothing to accuse him of.

It was a few more minutes before the noise caught my attention from one street over. I ducked through an alley and peered around the corner of a building. Across the street and a few buildings down I could see a small warehouse with its shutter door pulled up, a battered pick-up parked haphazardly in front of it so it sat half on the curb and half in the street in front of that. It was from inside the warehouse that I could hear the sounds, assorted yelling I couldn’t quite make out and the occasional crash of breaking glass.

There was no doubt about it, there was something going on in that warehouse. The real question was whether I was going to do something about it. I weighed the question for about half a second before deciding. Yes, I was. Either they were doing something illegal in there or they were planning to, and I’d come out tonight to stop something just like this, even if my general fear said otherwise.

The fact that they had a truck didn’t hurt things either. If it had been just a bunch of gangsters hanging out I couldn’t have really done anything short of trying to attack them with my beetleings or just calling the police. I couldn’t imagine any way the former would go well, and the latter was something anyone could do. Maybe just calling the cops on them wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but it would pretty much negate the purpose of putting on a costume and trying to fight crime myself. But with a car? I might not be able to do much to them, but my beetleings could ruin their getaway and make it easier for the cops to get them. Sure, it was still sort of relying on someone else to get them for me, but at least this way I could contribute.

Forcing down my nerves, I crept closer. I kept up the same nervous movement as I had before, keeping out of the light and ducking into alleys where I could. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered. As I ducked into the alley directly across from the open warehouse door, I got a good look at what was happening inside.

There were a good half dozen people clustered in the warehouse, too busy shouting, jeering, and laughing at each other to bother looking outside. The air around them was heavy with smoke, some from cigarettes and some from fatter blunts. The source of the breaking glass was clear too, as there wasn’t a single one of them without a beer in hand, with more bottles both empty and full littering the floor. As I watched, one of the guys pulled off his shirt and started doing some drunken approximation of flirtatious dancing to the jeers and mockery of his fellows.

I grimaced in distaste under my bandanna. Yeah, these were definitely Merchants. But more important than the drunken debauchery and the gangsters themselves was what lay behind them. Piled on a cheap plastic table and some wooden crates were several piles of white powder crammed into plastic bags. I might not have been able to tell what kind of drugs they were exactly, but even an idiot would know that they were definitely drugs. More importantly, there were more drugs than it looked like a half dozen people could carry, but rather an amount that would require, say, a truck to easily transport.

My face split into a grin. Even if they managed to get away before cops showed, they’d have to leave some behind. Not a major victory, but getting some drugs off the street would be a good start.

I reached for the energy, then hesitated. Drunk and high as they were, my power was pretty bright and loud when I activated it. Maybe better to do it farther from them. I moved farther back into the alley and ducked behind a dumpster to summon my beetleings.

It had taken the better part of two days of practice for me to figure out how to make this work. As best I could tell, my power needed a particular cause to activate. So simply trying to summon a beetleing for the sake of it wouldn’t work, but trying to summon them to do something would, whether that something was practice or demolition.

I focused on the truck  and my desire to break it down, then pulled on the energy. The air split and cracked around me, and in a matter of seconds I had five fresh beetleings ready to go. Or at least I assumed they were fresh. I’d tried a couple different things to try and figure out if I summoned the same ones each time or if I created new ones with each summoning, and I still wasn’t sure. They couldn’t take things with them when they vanished, and when I marked one with paint none had been painted when I summoned them later, but it was possible they simply got reabsorbed by my power and had their bodies made anew each time. The only way I could think of to know for sure would be to ask them, but I’d established pretty well by now that asking them about anything was a fool’s errand.

The five looked up at me, quietly clicking their mandibles together. With their small size and shiny red eyes, they were almost cute in a weird bug-toddler sort of way. I wondered if maybe I was projecting a bit. A year and a half without friends had probably lowered my standards when it came to accepting companionship in any form.

“Go break down the truck across the street. Stay out of sight if you can and return to me once you’re done.” I hesitated, thinking if there was anything else to add to the instructions. The beetleings waited patiently, which was nice to note. They usually went right for a task once given orders, but apparently they could tell if the orders weren’t finished.

“If you do get spotted, try to subdue the gangsters.” As far as I considered it, this was the best way to cover my bases. If they didn’t get spotted, no problem. If they did, I’d get to know whether they were better or worse than a bunch of drunken gangsters at fighting.

Once I was done talking, they turned and scurried towards the warehouse. I followed, stopping to crouch at the mouth of the alley at watch them go. The five of them moved in silent coordination, keeping low to the ground and crawling rapidly on all fours across the street. They kept the truck between them and the gangsters, staying out of sight until they got to the vehicle.

Over the past few days, I had gotten quite a bit of practice in with them to sabotage things. Part of that had involved trying to get them to do it slowly so I could learn to do it myself, but that had quickly proven impossible as I figured out how they did it. To put it simply, they were almost literally made to break things. The shape of their claws could be used to pry open seams and turn screws, while the inflexible carapace of their mandibles and hands let them grab and turn pieces with a strength I’d have to use plyers for. Even their tongues had a use, long, thin, and stiff enough to jab into small openings and dislodge internal pieces enough for them to capitalize on a shift and tear the whole thing apart.

Another thing I’d learned was that what they broke had a tendency to stay broken. They were none to gentle with their disassembly, and almost every time pieces got broken, bent, or warped in a way that made it impossible to fix without replacing the part.

But that had all been with small things, scavenged doorknobs and hinges. I’d never set them on anything as large or complex as a car. So it was with some interest that I watched them set to work.

As soon as they got to it, three of them teamed up to form a stack and reach the door handle. Apparently the Merchants didn’t think to lock their car, because they managed to pull the door open and two slipped inside. A second later the hood popped up an inch as they apparently found the hood release. The third from the stack quickly crawled up the tire and onto the front bumper, lifting the hood enough to squeeze under into the engine before letting it drop down behind it.

While those three did that, the fourth crawled directly under the car before hauling itself up into the underside. The fifth simply went right for a tire, gnawing and clawing at it until it tore a hole in the rubber the size of my palm.

My interest quickly turned to glee as they worked. I couldn’t tell exactly what was happening from a distance, but from the number of pieces falling out of the underside and the two demolished tires, it was quite a bit. I cast a glance at the Merchants to see if they noticed anything, but they seemed pretty distracted by one of their number holding up a bag of the drugs. Maybe they weren’t supposed to sample their wares, maybe they’d developed a sudden objection to drugs, but I didn’t much care. So long as they were distracted and let by beetleings work in peace, things were fine.

Naturally, that’s when things stopped being fine. One of them turned away from the group and started walking towards the car, yelling something over his shoulder. My heart jumped into my throat. No, no, no! The car was definitely inoperable by now, but if he spotted the beetleings he’d warn the group, and if my minions weren’t strong enough to provide a good distraction, they’d have a good enough head start to get away before the police had a chance to do.

At that moment, I had a terrible realization. I couldn’t call the police. I didn’t have a phone! I wanted to slam my head against a wall in frustration. Of course! First night out, and I already screwed up entirely. Even if this had worked perfectly, I couldn’t have done anything. I felt a bitter wave of self-directed anger that made my pulse pick up. I couldn’t even blame my power for it, this was a 100% Taylor screw-up. Some superhero I was.

At least my beetleings didn’t same to be suffering from similar terrible realizations. They’d stopped working as soon as the guy had turned away from the group, going into hiding immediately. From my perspective I could see one of them huddled behind a tire, but I couldn’t see any sign of the other four. I reached out through their connection to feel where they were, finding them hiding inside the paneling and bowels of the car.

The guy reached the car and pulled open the passenger door before rummaging around for something by the seat. I felt my spirit lift a bit. Maybe things would work out after all.

Then the hinges came apart and the door fell off of the car, along with some of the outer paneling and about a dozen parts from the underside. I didn’t know what he saw from his perspective, but from the way he started screaming, I knew it wasn’t good.

An instant later one of the beetleings threw itself out of the side of the truck at him. It rammed into his leg with as much force as it could muster, which didn’t seem to be much, but it quickly followed by by biting and clawing at his shin.

The guy staggered back, swearing and screaming bloody murder, the beetleing staying hot on his heels. The rest of the group broke apart from their revelry, degenerating into cursing and shouting as they saw what was happening. A few pulled knives from their pockets and started moving to help the Merchant under attack.

In that next moment after he started moving away from the truck, the rest of the beetleings made their move. They bolted out from under it, crawled out of the engine, all moving towards the one already being attacked. One leapt up and grabbed his jeans, trying to climb up his body, while another joined the first at harrying his legs.

The guy screamed and beat at them with his hands, but between their hard shells and the way he didn’t want to reach down far enough to hit them, it didn’t do much. The other Merchants that had been coming to help him had backed off by now, continuing their contributions to the broad tapestry of profanity as they watched in shock and horror, seemingly unwilling to get close to some unknown monsters that were attacking their buddy. I actually felt much the same way. They seemed much more aggressive than I thought they’d be.

The guy tried to grab the one that was by now up to his stomach and shove it away from him, while also trying to kick the ones at his feet. That proved to be a mistake. When his leg was up from a kick and he was off balance, the two on the ground made a vicious attack on his other ankle. He lost his balance and toppled to the ground with a scream that ended in a gasp as he struck the concrete floor.

In an instant all three were on him, crawling on his torso in a crowd of gnashing mandibles and scraping claws. From what I could tell they didn’t seem to be doing much damage, nothing more than shallow scrapes and punctures, but from the way the guy was screaming it was clear he was terrified. One of the gangsters seemed to shake himself out of his shock at the sight of one of their own going down, stepping forward towards them with a knife in hand. Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the other two make their move. I was distracted myself, though more out of growing appreciation for my beetleings surprising combat capabilities than concern for the guy, but I only caught a glimpse of them and a glint of metal before they struck.

The guy who had been moving to help howled in pain as a tire iron crashed into his ankle. As he lifted his foot to try and relieve himself of the pain, the length of pipe carried by the other beetleing struck him in the side of the knee. He crumpled, barely managing to catch himself with his hands. That didn’t help him, because the pipe came back around and hit him in the elbow, sending his arm splaying across the floor and making him collapse onto his shoulder.

He tried to rise but the other one moved, tire iron raised overhead to crack down on his skull.

My previously growing pride in my beetleings immediately gave way to fear. Sure, none of what they were doing already was gentle, but that could actually kill him! Even if he was a major criminal, he didn’t deserve to be brained in a warehouse.

My mouth was already open to shout for them to stop when it shifted its grip and brought it down on his jaw instead. There was a loud crack and he started writhing and screaming. It sounded painful, but not lethal.

I sagged against the alley wall a bit, overwhelmed at what had nearly happened. I was filled with shame and regret. I should have practiced more, I should have told them to run instead of fighting, I should have done _anything_ but have my minions attack some random criminals while having no idea what their capabilities were. A man had nearly died tonight, all because I was too hasty and impatient to try and be a hero.

I wanted to laugh at myself. Yeah, a hero. Sure, that’s _definitely_ the word they’d use to describe me if I mauled a half dozen people with an untested power. I looked up to check on how the fight was going. They had moved on from the two men now laying moaning and whimpering on the floor. One of the remaining gangsters had a baseball bat and was managing to fend them off with it, but the five were circling the gangsters, looking for an opening.

I couldn’t bring myself to be interested in the fight anymore. I’d sabotaged their car, broken up their meeting. Technically, I’d done everything I set out to do. Fighting had seemed like a good idea for practice at the time, but now it just seemed gratuitous, more dangerous than it was worth. I considered just leaving, just letting the beetleings stay here until I got too far away and they vanished.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by a thunderous bang. At almost the same time there was another sound, one I was much more familiar with. The sound of my power activating. I reached for my connections in a panic, trying to find the new beetleing, wondering why it had activated. But there were no more connections than I’d expected. Actually, there were less.

 Afraid now, I looked to the gangsters to see one of them brandishing a gun against four beetleings. He let of another shot as one tried to lunge. The beetleing in motion exploded apart into quickly sealing lines of light in the air, like the reverse of when they appeared. I felt the connection break as the beetleing died this time now that I was paying attention.

I was torn between fear and relief. This wasn’t great, but now that I knew they could protect themselves from the beetleings I could just leave without worrying that they’d create a murder scene as soon as they were out of sight. I felt kind of shitty that this was how I was going to end my first night out as a hero, but I supposed it could be worse. I’d broken a gangster’s car, ruined their party, and probably drawn the police with the gunshots. Even if I hadn’t gotten them arrested, it was still a small win.

“Hey!” One of the remaining gangsters yelled. I looked up, somewhat curious at the first thing I’d heard them say that wasn’t a curse or similar vulgarity. “Who’s that over there?!”

The shouting guy pointed and the others looked where he was pointing. He was pointing out of the warehouse and across the street. Directly at me.

Oh _fuck_.


	5. Hatching 1.5

I ran. There wasn’t any thought to it, any greater plan, I just bolted as soon as I registered they saw me. Not a moment too soon either, as another gunshot sounded and a chunk of wall near where I had been standing shattered under the impact of a bullet.

“Shit!” I hissed under my breath. My heart felt like it was in my throat. Breaking their truck and seeing them fight my beetleings had been one thing, but getting shot at was another. Everything took on a sort of cold clarity as I realized, maybe only truly grasped for the first time, that if things went wrong here I could die.

I really had not done myself any favors by lurking in the mouth of an alley and watching them. Even if they hadn’t gotten attacked by monsters, I doubt they would have been very happy if they’d noticed me. I hesitated for a moment as I reached the other end of the alley, briefly torn about which way to go. Another gunshot sounded behind me in the same moment another of my connections vanished. Only two more of my minions left, then.

It didn’t matter which direction I went, just that I chose one. I went left, sprinting down the backroad that ran behind residential buildings and the occasional run-down store. I could already feel my feet starting to ache in my barely broken in boots as a burning started up in my chest and legs. Damn, I was out of shape! That really didn’t speak well for me avoiding the pissed off gangsters chasing me.

I felt one of my connections vanish, followed shortly after by the last. No minions left now. Even worse, I could hear shouting from further behind me. No footsteps though, which was good in the sense that it meant they weren’t hot on my trail, but they were still coming after me.

I cut down another side alley so I wouldn’t be in plain view when they came out into the back street. I could feel myself slowing already, though I couldn’t have been running more than a minute or two. If things came down to this chase, I was going to lose.

So if I wanted to get away, I’d have to outthink them. It was a daunting prospect. This was my first night as a cape, and now I had to outsmart a bunch of gangsters in a chase. Gangsters, I reminded myself before I could really start panicking, who were drunk, high, and who knows what else.

The thought was mildly comforting. I refused to accept that a bunch of drug-addled thugs would be able to outsmart me, even if I was trying to think up a solution on the fly. That’s all they were, just a bunch of drug-addled thugs who happened to have baseball bats and knives and a gun and if they caught me they’d probably-

I cut that course of thought off as well as I started panicking again. The voices behind me were louder now, too close for comfort. I vaguely remembered one of the anti-drug PSAs talking about what stuff like that did to your mind and how it shut down the parts of it responsible for telling you if you were tired or hurt. So depending on what they were hopped up on, I could be dealing with a bunch of mini-Aegis’s. Given my own lack of fitness, that meant that just outlasting them was out, unless they stopped to hurl what was in their stomachs.

The air cracked around me as I ran, and a second later five new beetleings were running at my heels as they emerged from the distorted air I’d left behind. I hadn’t consciously reached for my power, but just like in the locker and in the hospital, it reacted to what I wanted even without me thinking about it.

I certainly wasn’t going to complain about assistance, and the sight of them was strangely comforting, but I was worried about the energy my power drew from. With the full batch of beetleings destroyed just minutes ago and a new one created, it was the lowest I had ever felt it. That wasn’t to say it was objectively low, I could tell I hadn’t even used up half of my reserve, but I really didn’t want to learn some new and terrible side effect of using it up while in the middle of running from gangsters.

The voices behind me were louder now, both because they were getting closer and because they were yelling more. I winced a bit as I burst out onto the main road, putting on a burst of speed to cross to the alley on the other side and get into a different back street. They’d probably heard my power activating. Fuck, things would have been so much easier if I could summon my beetleings silently.

“Go after the men chasing me,” I gasped to the beetleings that were with me, “Slow them down or lead them away.”

The beetleings immediately stopped following me, turning and skittering back down the alley towards where I could hear my pursuers. Best case scenario, they stalled the gangsters enough for me to get away. Worst case scenario, they provided a perfect indication of where I was by which direction they came from. I really hoped it would be the first.

One of the connections vanished as I heard a gunshot. The shot wasn’t far from me, but it was definitely farther than the voices had been a bit ago. I didn’t slow, didn’t dare slow. If I did, even for a moment, it might give them the time they needed to catch up with me.

A second connection vanished as I ran. I ducked down another side alley, heading for a main street to try and cut across to yet another cluster of alleys. I made it about five feet out into the road before I caught sight of a pair of dirty looking guys. Each had a general look to them that gave me the impression they’d hadn’t showered for a while by choice rather than by necessity, with scruffy beards and stained clothes. Each also held a two-by-four board, holding them like awkward clubs.

They caught sight of me at about the same time. “It’s the bitch!” one of them shouted, dashing my hopes that they might be unrelated nighttime wanderers.

I turned on my heel and ran back into the alley I’d come from. There were people chasing me in that direction, but the guys on the street were standing nearly half a block away in the opposite direction. Either they’d managed to split up and get ahead of me somehow, or the Merchants had backup.

The logistics of it didn’t matter, the important things was that I was trapped and terrified. People behind me, people ahead of me, it brought back uncomfortable memories of getting boxed in by bullies in the halls at Winslow. The thought almost made me smile. In a thought I’d certainly never had before, I would have preferred the bullies to this.

I stopped in the alley, looking quickly around. Leaving through either side would be walking right back into sight of one group or another, I needed another way out. Weren’t alleys like this supposed to have side doors or fire escapes?

Luckily, the answer seemed to be yes in this case at least. A dingy door sat in one wall of the alley, leaning to an old apartment building. I ran to it and tried the knob. Locked of course. A beetleing started taking form immediately, throwing itself at the lock and beginning to pry the rusted thing out of the doorframe.

The voices were getting louder from both sides. The ones from the group that had been chasing me were louder, more panicked. I heard a gunshot from that direction, but all my connections remained. A second later there was a panicked scream and another two rapid gunshots. It gave me some small amount of reassurance that apparently my beetleings had learned how dangerous the gun was and how to avoid getting shot.

The knob fell to the ground and I was through the door before anyone could round the entrance to the alleyway, closing it quickly behind me. I was in some dingey concrete room with only a staircase winding up to other levels and a door across from me. I hurried to the door, eager to put more distance between myself and the Merchants.

At the last second, paranoia overruled near-panic and I didn’t throw the door open to bolt through. Instead I turned the knob slowly and eased the door open. I winced as the rusty hinges squeaked, but I managed to peek around the door into a hallway.

It proved to have been the right move as I saw a few men and women with the distinctive messy look of Merchants in the hall in the middle of a conversation. They were clustered around one of the many doors that lined the hall, and some of them looked like they were from the room inside.

I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder at the door I’d come in. I could hear some yelling outside, but from the sounds of it, none from inside the alley itself. My beetleing stood beside me, as attentive and quiet as ever. Still keeping a nervous ear on the door behind me, I tried to listen in on what they were saying.

“It’s bullshit is what it is!” one of the guys from inside the room complained. “Why do we have to do this crap?”

“Look,” another guy groaned, “I dunno, but Tommy said-”

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” another guy said. “Careful you don’t choke on his cock when you’re suckin’ him off like that.”

That got some sniggers from the group, except for the second guy who had spoken, the one getting mocked. A louder shout from outside made me look back to the door, but it quieted down pretty fast. I had missed most of what they’d said next, but the second guy to speak was still talking.

“-called me, and said to get the guys.”

Another groan from another person, this one a woman. “Why do we have to go? He can chase his made-up capes on his own, ‘less he wants to share whatever he’s smoking.”

My fear got worse. They were talking about me. It explained those other guys at least, apparently one of the Merchants had called his friends to gather up some more gangsters to hunt me down. I backed away from the door as quietly as I could.

Forward and back were both bad options, and that left up. I hurried to the stairs and started to climb, torn halfway between going as fast as I could and being quiet enough that the sound of my boots on the stairs wouldn’t alert the Merchants in the hall. I was acutely aware that the voices in the alley were getting louder and closer to the door into the buildings.

Just getting up one floor felt like it took an agonizingly long time, and when I opened the door to get into the hallway, I couldn’t be sure if I heard the door on the ground level open too or if my nerves were just making me hear double from my own door.

I hurried down the hall towards the stairway at the other end, conscious of how loud my footsteps sounded without anyone else around. I felt another of my connections vanish before I was even halfway down the hall. Apparently my distraction wasn’t doing so well.

So what were my options? Keep running was the most obvious one, but maybe not the best. The Merchants were coming out of the woodwork, and I stood the risk of getting caught by one group or another. I could get the beetleing to break open the lock to one of these apartments, hide for a while until things blew over. I dismissed that option almost immediately. I had no idea what was in any of these apartments, breaking in to one could mean walking in on something just as bad as Merchants, if not worse.

Call the cops, then slip away in the distraction? No, I still didn’t have a phone, and trying to get one ran into the same problems as breaking into an apartment. None of my options were good. I winced as I felt another of my connections vanish. Only one beetleing left out there to distract them.

I had to choose. Staying in this building was a bad idea, they had Merchants in here already and they might come up and find me. My best bet was to get out and break into another building, find a hiding spot there for a few hours until this all blew over.

My final connection to my distraction beetleings broke as I eased the door to the stairwell open, leaving me with only the one at my side. Luckily, the Merchants downstairs weren’t coming up, and I hurried down the stairs as quickly as I could to the exterior door.

I cracked open the door to the alley and peeked through, trying to keep an ear out behind me in case the Merchants in the hall came into the stairwell. No one in sight in the alley, though the flickering illumination from one light above the door didn’t really help matters. Still, it was as good as I was going to get. Carefully, I eased it open and slipped out into the alley with my beetleing on my heels, closing the door quietly behind me. With luck, the Merchants who has seen me would all be focused on the other side of the building and I could slip away.

I didn’t make it more than two steps before I heard a gunshot. The sound was almost overlapped by the shattering noise as my beetleing collapsed back into non-existence, my connection winking out along with it. I flinched hard at the sound, awaiting a second shot, but none came.

“Well,” a scratchy voice drawled, “Lookie what we got here.”

I spun towards the voice. There was a Merchant stepping out from behind a dumpster with a small pistol clutched in one hand. He gave a wide smile that showed off more empty space than teeth. Through sheer, dumb luck, he’d been standing where I couldn’t see him while peeking through the door.

I took a step back away from him, towards the other end of the alley. He didn’t move closer or raise the gun as a threat to stop me, but his smile spread a little wider. That wasn’t right. I took a peek over my shoulder and my heart sank further. Another Merchant had moved into the alley behind me to cut off my escape, a woman with filthy tangled hair and a switchblade in one hand.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, bitch.” She sneered.

“Yeah, bitch, ain’t going nowhere.” The guy echoed.

According to movies and tv, this was the moment where I was supposed to come up with some witty threat or retort before wiping the floor with them. Instead I was too scared to even speak, my gaze locked onto the gun in his hand. It seemed so small and dirty, but I knew with terrifying certainty that it wouldn’t take much for him to kill me with it. Hell, it didn’t even have to be intentional, just one accidental twitch on the trigger and I wouldn’t be going home tonight.

I was distantly aware the woman behind me was still talking. “This’s the bitch that fucked up the stash, right?”

The guy shrugged. “Dunno. She’s dressed funny though. Figure I can pop her anyways, just in case.”

I really should have been more scared to hear that than I was. Maybe I was too afraid already to get anymore scared, but hearing him casually mention shooting me barely made my heartrate rise from its already rapid pace.

“Y’think she’s got cash on her?”

"Fuck off!” the guy sneered, “I kill her, I get her cash.”

“Not if I stick her first! Then I got dibs.”

As they kept talking, anger mixed in with the fear. Not only were they going to shoot me, but now they were talking about me like it was already done? Fuck that! There was no way I was going to let myself get written off as a cape, especially by some two-bit gangbanger thugs.

My hand strayed closer to the pocket where I held my pepper spray. It wouldn’t do anything at this distance, but if I could mob the guy with beetleings, he might try to fight them off instead of just shooting me. Then I could get the woman and slip away while they were distracted.

I reached for my power. The energy was definitely diminished from how it had been at the start of the night, but there was still more than enough to give me five more beetleings. I could feel it responding slightly slower than it had earlier, but I still pulled it to the surface, focusing on the thought of beating down the thug in front of me.

The air in front of me broke with the distinctive sound and glowing cracks of my power.

“Fuck!” The guy had been letting the gun drift down, but now he was snapping it back up, bringing it in line to shoot me.

The previously dulled terror was now back in full force. This wasn’t going to work! He was already pointing the gun at me, ready to fire. The moment my beetleings appeared he’d just shoot me without even realizing they were there and it’d all be over.

Things didn’t move in slow motion, but I felt a sort of crystal clear clarity, like the moment just before you stub your toe where you know it’s going to happen but can’t stop it, only a thousand times stronger. The guy was pulling the trigger. I was trying to throw myself to the ground and out of the line of fire. My cracks in the air continued to grow, just to summon beetleings that wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The air finished shattering and collapsing into form at the same moment the gun went off. The thing that came out was definitely not a beetleing. I had a moment to register a gunshot just before I hit the ground and practically curled into fetal position.

I caught a glimpse of the thing as it lunged forward a second later, a pale humanoid shape that seemed off in the dim light of the alley. The man’s gun arm was shoved to the side, pointing away from me as it seized his wrist in one hand. In that same instant, with his arm pushed wide away from his body, it brought its head down to the space between his neck and shoulder and I heard a wet, meaty sound. The guy’s cursing abruptly cut off into screams that rapidly shifted from pain to anger, then back to pain.

I heard a scuff on the concrete behind me and quickly rolled over. The woman was there, brandishing her knife as she rushed towards me. Maybe she thought if she killed me the thing would go away, maybe she was just too strung out on something to consider just running away, but she was bringing the knife around to stab me in the face.

I pulled the pepper spray out of my pocket and unloaded it in her face. She screamed and dropped the knife in her hurry to try and wipe her eyes. I heard a snarl from behind me, much louder than any of the clicking noises my beetleings had ever made.

She heard it too, because she tried to backpedal away, still mostly blind from the tears pouring down her face. It might have saved her life, because a second later the thing lunged over me and swiped at her stomach with one of its hands. I heard the sound of tearing cloth as the midsection of her shirt was torn to ribbons, her scramble to put distance between herself and it buying her just enough space that it didn’t hit her body.

She spun around and tried to run. A mistake. As soon as she turned her back on it, the thing made another lunge. She hadn’t made it more than a few steps before it pounced on her, its claws tearing through the back of her shirt and into her skin in a spray of blood. Her feet went out from under her and she fell, the thing practically landing atop her.

I saw it raise its hand again in preparation for another slash, catching a glimpse of bloodied claws in the dim light. “Don’t kill her!” I blurted, my fear of becoming a murderer overriding the persisting fear of being killed.

It seemed to hesitate, then lowered its upraised hand. The woman underneath it was still squirming, trying to get away. It seemed to appraise her for a moment, then grabbed her by the back of her head, lifted it up, and slammed her face into the pavement.

I winced as I hear a crunch from what I assumed to be her nose. It repeated the process twice more before stopping, her attempts to crawl away reduced to faint whimpers. I felt a surge of guilt that I did my best to ignore. She’d just been talking about killing me and stealing my stuff, after all. If I couldn’t feel comfortable about beating someone like her up, I probably couldn’t do much as a hero.

Though on the topic of her, I looked behind me to check on the other guy. He was slumped against the alley wall with the gun nowhere in sight. His shirt was soaked in a bloodstain coming from one side of his neck. I gulped. That was a lot of blood.

I pushed myself to my feet and hurried over to him. My first aid classes weren’t due to start until next weekend, so I wasn’t exactly trained to find a pulse or check breathing, but I had a general idea. It took me longer than I would have liked, but I found that his pulse was still going. Whether my troubles finding it had been due to my own inexperience or because he was doing poorly, I wasn’t sure, but I figured I should call him an ambulance anyways.

I rummaged through his pockets, very carefully in case he had needles or something in them, and eventually came up with a battered cell phone. I took it and turned around to call the ambulance, only to come face to face with my monster.

It was my monster, I was certain of that at least. It had appeared in the same way as my beetleings, so it was the only thing that made sense. It certainly didn’t look like my beetelings though. It was humanoid, in the sense that it stood on two legs, had two arms, and had one head, but that was about where the similarities stopped.

It was naked, not that there was anything to indicate its sex, but the detail seemed a lot more prominent than with the beetleings given its more humanoid size and shape. It was hairless and pale, not pale in the way that I got during the winter but more in the way of some underground fish that showed off the veins worming beneath its skin. Its legs had two knees, arranged like a dog’s, while its back was hunched, leaving its eye level only about an inch higher than mine. It also had a small bleeding hole in its stomach, which answered the question of what had happened to the bullet when the Merchant had tried to shoot me.

It had three fingers on its hands and two toes on its feet, all of which ended in curved claws. The claws on its hands, I noticed with some disgust, were wet with blood. As was its face, though it took me a moment to tear my eyes away from the claws long enough to realize that.

Its eyes were beady and red, set deep into their sockets. There were no ears, only holes in the sides. There was no nose, just two slits that widened as it hissed in a breath. The mouth was hard to make out with the blood smeared across its face and dripping down its neck, but it helpfully opened its mouth wider to run a long, squirming tongue over its teeth to try and lick them clean. It seemed to have no lips, leaving jagged rows of fangs clear to see. More unusually, the lower jaw seemed split in two parts, the tips where they met to form a “chin” ending in small hooked appendages like fingers.

It wasn’t really doing anything, just standing there next to me like my beetleings always did when they were awaiting orders. That more than anything was what confirmed it for me. I had definitely made this thing with my power. That raised questions. A lot of questions.

Questions, I reminded myself, that could wait until after I called an ambulance to help these people. Merchants and attempted murderers they may be, but my monster had done a number on them and no one wanted them to bleed out in a dirty alley. I was punching in 911 when I heard a heavy footstep behind me. My monster’s gaze snapped up to look behind me and it rushed past me with a loud snarl.

That was useful, I reflected, my terror by now a fading memory compared to my curiosity. Apparently it must have been operating on some sort of blanket command, like how my first beetleing had broken me out of my locket without needing orders. If I could figure out how to do that more precisely, it could really help send my beetlings out quicker in a high-pressure situation.

I turned around, still contemplating how to better use my power, just in time to see my monster attack a Ward. I recognized him from the publicity pictures as Aegis, a cape billed with flight and invulnerability. Though that second part didn’t seem to be the case as my monster slashed him across the forearms he’d raised to block his face, tearing through his costume and into the flesh below.

“911, what is your emergency?” a pleasant voice said from the phone I still held by my head as I stared dumbfounded and horrified at the sight before me.

Aegis grabbed one of my monster’s wrists in each hand, spreading them up and out so it couldn’t get them in position to claw at him anymore. It just lunged in with its head, lower jaw splitting apart into two fang-filled sections to snap shut on his throat and tear at it like a dog.

I was aware of the operator saying something else to me, but I was slowly lowering the phone. Not much of a point in calling an ambulance if the Wards were already here. They probably had much better ways to get in contact with the people they needed than I did. Though this was definitely not the way I’d wanted to meet the Wards. Over a phone call or on a tour, maybe, but not in a dirty alley when one of my monsters that I didn’t know I could make two minutes ago tried to rip out Aegis’s throat.

Maybe I could call it off, try and explain things? Before I could, Aegis let go of its wrists and grabbed the two parts of its lower jaw. He pulled sharply apart, and with a horrendous snapping sound, ripped both halves right off its face. It let out a gurgling snarl, but before it could attack him again, Aegis lowered his shoulder and rammed it with a flight-assisted football charge that slammed it into a wall.

Something crunched in its chest with the impact, and a second later it was shattering, unfolding along the cracks and bringing out the emptiness inside until its was gone like it had never been. I stared silently. A brand new aspect of my power, and one of the Wards took it apart in seconds like it was nothing. Yeah, they definitely didn’t need me.

I took a step forward. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to say. Apologize, probably, introduce myself as a new independent or vigilante, maybe. I didn’t get the chance to do either. Aegis spun towards me as soon as I moved, the part of his face I could see twisting into a snarl of anger.

“Aegis?” I said hesitantly.

He launched himself towards me with his flight, letting out a wordless scream of hate. Suddenly, apologies seemed a lot less important than self-preservation. I focused on defending myself from him and the air in front of me shattered to create another of those humanoid monsters.

It threw itself at him, not stopping his flying charge but interrupting it long enough for me to dodge to the side as the two of them tumbled to the ground. With the advantage of flight, Aegis ended up on top with his hands wrapped around my monster’s throat. It didn’t much seem to care that he was crushing its windpipe, though its attempted snarl came out as little more than a gurgle.

It grabbed at Aegis’s already wounded forearms, digging its claws into the wounds and trying to make him release it. Apart from how his angry grimace tightened a bit, Aegis didn’t seem to care about the pain any more than my monster did. Seeing that wasn’t going to work, it changed tactics. It curled its legs up to its chest, bringing them under the floating Aegis, and kicked upward. Rather than a flat kick meant to push him away, it was a gutting kick like I’d seen on documentaries about jungle cats, raking the talons of its toes into his stomach in an attempt to disembowel him. No organs fell out, but the costume tore and blood poured onto the monster below him.

That, I figured, was enough to intervene. “Don’t try to kill him!” I yelled at my monster. Probably not the most typical advice to give to what appeared to be the looser in the current arrangement, but I’d rather be safe than sorry when it came to a Ward.

Aegis’s head snapped up to look at me, still not loosing the intensely angry look he’d bee directing at my monster. “You.” His voice was practically a growl. How much of that was anger and how much was pain, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m really sorry, I-”

“As soon as I kill this thing,” he said, cutting me off, ignoring the claws that continued to slash at his arms and chest, “You’re next.”

I was still trying to register that as his grip tightened on my monster’s neck. A loud snap sounded through the alley and the monster under him fell limp, rapidly starting to collapse away. I barely had time to notice that as he lunched himself towards me, hands outstretched to grab me.

I’d just had a very good demonstration of why letting him get his hands on me was a bad idea, and I summoned another monster between us to intercept him. This time I didn’t stop at one, pulling another and another into reality until there were five of them attacking him.

The others grabbed him from behind as he wrestled with the first on the ground, two seizing his arms and pulling them behind him in some sort of hold, while a third slashed at the backs of his legs, trying to force him to his knees. He fought back, but it was frenzied, almost rabid. With the way he was yelling and thrashing, he seemed more like an animal than a person.

I backed away from him as the monsters tried to restrain him, alternating between simply grabbing him and trying to bite or claw him into submission. Neither seemed very effective. If they tried to just hold him he’d buck an arm or leg free with his strength, and none of the wounds even seemed to slow him. The wiki hadn’t gone into detail about how his supposed invulnerability worked, but I suspected now that it was more about making sure the damage he took didn’t hurt him rather than avoiding being damaged in the first place.

Almost offhandedly, I realized that I was focusing on his power to try and avoid thinking about a problem. The way he was acting like a rabid animal, the threat to kill me… This was the sort of person they let into the Wards? Okay, maybe I could chalk it up to panic at getting attacked by a monster or nerves getting to him because he was in pain. But that really didn’t make it better. At best, it shifted him from ‘psychopath’ to ‘violent hothead.’

I watched as my monsters tried to slash out the back of his knee and ankle on one leg, only for him to remain obstinately standing. I caught myself wringing my hands, forced myself to stick them in my pockets. I’d had concerns floating around in the back of my mind about what it would be like to join the Wards, but seeing a situation laid out like this in front of me? I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them were like this behind the mask of PR, how much was glossed over in news reports and interviews and wiki pages for whatever reasons they happened to have.

My worried musings were interrupted as Aegis twisted sharply, pulling one arm free from my monsters’ grasp with a loud pop. He pulled his newly freed hand to the side of his head, the arm’s movement indicating that something in it was broken out of place so he could slip the hold. “Vista!” he roared before the arm was snatched again.

That was enough to give me pause again. Vista was a space warper, a powerful one, and from the sound of things she was close by. If she showed up, I might end the night in a prison cell, though whether that was the good or bad option remained to be seen. Maybe I could leverage this as a mistake, get into the Wards with apologies about still learning my power. But looking at Aegis, I couldn’t help but wonder. How many of them were like that, just under the surface? How could I be safe there?

If I got captured and joined out of a prison cell, that would be something I could never live down. And on the same team as Aegis? I could easily see that becoming another Winslow, another place to get shoved around and beaten down. For Aegis, certainly, just to regain his pride and get back at me for this, but if the others were anything like him, or at least the type of people who tolerated him in the first place? No, getting captured tonight was not an option.

“Don’t kill anyone, but keep him down.” I ordered my monsters, one last command to make sure they didn’t go too far.

Then I turned and ran, this time away from the heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Summon: Wrathspawn (NE medium aberration, CR 2, Pathfinder)


	6. Interlude 1: Aegis

Aegis shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. He wasn’t in pain, his power saw to that, but even without the pain it felt weird to shift an arm and find too much give because the skin and muscle had a gap torn into them, or to shift his weight and find himself overcorrecting because the connective tissues up one side were gone.

To an onlooker, it would have seemed a miracle that he was _only_ uncomfortable. He’d stripped off the top of his costume just to get the wet mass of the blood-soaked fabric off of him, leaving his wounds on full display. Out of all the Wards, he was the only one to not have armor incorporated into his costume. It made logical sense, his power made sure his injuries weren’t much more than inconveniences, but it also meant he had no protection against getting injured in the first place. And right now, he was _very_ injured.

Deep gashes lined his arms, focused around the wrists, elbows, and shoulders. Others practically covered his torso, with the worst being a set of parallel slashes running from the bottom of his ribcage to his groin, the evidence of a near-disemboweling strike from taloned feet. His neck looked like raw hamburger meat from when the first monster had tried to bite out his windpipe, and more than a few other bitemarks decorated his body. The red of his leggings hid most of the wounds below the waist, but they were almost as numerous there. All in all, Aegis looked like he’d been put through a meat grinder, then put through again for good measure.

Across from him and on the other side of six inches of reinforced plexiglass sat PRT Director Piggot. Or a representation of her anyways. Normally, in this situation Piggot would have come in herself, but this within the nebulous block of time between late at night and early in the morning where Piggot never came in. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be bothered or was busy, she’d always teleconference in like she was now, but she never came in person.

No one really knew what was special about that block of time, or if they did they were keeping their mouths shut. For his part, Aegis was too smart to ask. If Piggot wasn’t telling people why, there was nothing good to be gained from digging into it.

“So.” Piggot said. The restrained anger of that single word made Aegis flinch harder than he had during the entire fight that led to this meeting. “Aegis. Would you please, in your own words, explain to us how a routine patrol and a report of some minor gang activity led to a violent encounter with a new cape?”

Aegis shifted again. A fair mechanical whirring came from the ceiling as the containment foam dispensers of the Master/Stranger cell moved to track him. If he tried to break out of the cell, if Piggot pressed a button, or if any one of a dozen other criteria were fulfilled, the entire room would be filled with enough containment foam that not even strength and flight would let him pry himself free.

Piggot wasn’t the only one waiting on his answer as he tried and failed once more to find a comfortable position. The screen she was teleconferencing in through was flanked by two Protectorate capes, Miss Militia on one side and Armsmaster on the other. Aegis wasn’t really surprised that either of them were there, despite the time and the fact that neither of them were on the roster for the night. Everyone who worked with Miss Militia for longer than a few days knew she didn’t need to sleep, and anyone who worked with Armsmaster at all knew the man would happily pull an all-nighter if it meant more time in his workshop. Of course for Armsmaster, that probably meant he’d been pulled away from his work to be here now, which certainly wouldn’t help his mood.

Aegis started to talk, only to cut himself off in a garble of sounds. With his voicebox still crushed by the bite to his throat, parts in his chest and mouth had shifted to take over the job. But while the new parts were functional, years of ingrained habit of how to speak were hard to break. After a few false starts, Aegis got the hang of his new voice to answer the question.

“We were on patrol. Standard route, 11:30 run.” The details weren’t really important, Aegis knew all of them had access to the schedule information. But sitting in a Master/Stranger cell, faced with three people who all had the authority to dock his pay or take him off the roster for a month, he wanted to be thorough.

“We were by the border to the Docks when we got forwarded a report about gunfire and a small crowd of hooligans running through the streets.”

“Why did you respond?” Armsmaster asked. Yeah, Aegis could recognize that gruff tone. He’d definitely been interrupted in his workshop to come here.

The question annoyed Aegis. The whole point of being Wards was to respond to things like that, to help people. Asking why they responded was like asking why a firefighter put out fires. But again, he recognized the question wasn’t so much about an actual explanation as it was how he answered.

“We were close enough to respond,” he said, “And I was reasonably sure that even if they had a gun, our power combination would make sure Vista would be fine.”

Armsmaster gave a vague grunt in affirmation and motioned for him to continue.

“We arrived at the scene and found a group of people that matched the general description we’d been given. Unkempt, obviously drunk, and one of them had a gun. All signs pointed to them being Merchants.” Aegis paused for a moment. “They were also fighting something.”

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow. “Something?”

Aegis nodded. “I didn’t get a good look at them, but there were at least two of them. No higher than my knee, but they were clearly attacking the people and the guy with the gun was shooting at them.”

Piggot hummed in thought, looking up from where she’d been typing on something offscreen. “You didn’t mention that before.”

Aegis shifted in his seat, this time more uncomfortable from the prodding statement than his position. “We didn’t see much, and it wasn’t as important compared to the rest.”

“I’ll decide what’s important.” Piggot said sharply. “Continue. You said before that you subdued them?”

Aegis nodded, then had to strain his head back into position when his windpipe crumpled under the movement. “Yes, Director. Vista hemmed them in while I knocked them around. They were so focused on the things that were already attacking them, they didn’t even notice me until half of them were down.”

“And what happened to those things?” Armsmaster asked.

“I’m… not sure.” Aegis admitted sheepishly. “I was focused on the Merchants, I didn’t even realize they were actually fighting something instead of just shooting randomly until I was already attacking them.”

“So it’s possible they’re still out there?” Miss Militia asked.

“Maybe.” Aegis admitted. “Like I said, I didn’t really realize they were there until I was already engaging the Merchants. They might have slipped away, or the Merchants could have killed them.”

Piggot frowned, typing something else out. “Given the choice between some mundane gangsters and indications of an unknown cape, it would have been better for you to focus on the cape.”

“I’ll make sure to run the Wards through a situational awareness gauntlet in the next few weeks.” Armsmaster said.

Aegis felt his heart drop a bit at that. He’d been through one of those earlier on when he was joining the team and he still shuddered to think of it. His durability had meant Armsmaster had gotten to go all-out on the hidden traps and tricks, making an obstacle course he had to run through while finding and avoiding hidden claymore mines, high-voltage tasers, and innumerable other Tinker-made hazards, all while also carrying out a half-dozen missions at once, one of which was dealing with the Protectorate member hunting him through it. Even the lesser version the others had gone through was a nasty piece of work, and he had no desire to be the one who made them all go through it again.

“I’m the one who screwed up, you don’t have to make everyone else do it too.” Aegis said. He directed the statement to Miss Militia, judging her to be the most merciful option in the room.

Miss Militia considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “You made the mistake, but Vista didn’t notice it either. In an unknown situation with an unknown power, that could have gotten one or both of you killed. You all get the drills, and hopefully you’ll do better next time.”

Aegis slumped in his seat a bit as Piggot finished typing. “The PRT squad sweeping the area didn’t find any bodies in that alley,” Piggot said, turning her attention back to Aegis, “So it seems they escaped. Please, continue.”

Aegis didn’t miss the extra layer of ‘you fucked up’ in her tone. Making himself keep talking felt like making himself stick his hand in a beartrap, but he sucked it up and kept going. “When we’d beaten them all down and started cuffing them, I heard a gunshot from the other side of the building. I told Vista to keep the gangsters in place and went to go check it out. That was when I ran into the cape.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “There were two people on the ground and two people standing. One was the cape, but I couldn’t make out much about them. The other was some sort of Master minion, like a person with claws and fangs. I was going to try and talk to them, but the minion attacked me as soon as I set down.”

Armsmaster made a judgmental grumbling noise, shifting his weight as he crossed his arms, halberd still held in one hand. “So they were immediately hostile then?”

“That does paint a more severe picture.” Miss Militia commented. “If they were willing to lash out at a Ward without provocation, we could be dealing with an unstable personality or an outright villainous one.”

“I don’t actually think it was either.” Aegis interjected. “She was facing away from me when I landed, but the minion wasn’t. She might have had poor control over it, or maybe it was just under loose instructions that marked me as a threat, but I don’t think she actually noticed me until after it attacked.”

Piggot folded her hands and glared at him through the screen. “If you think you’re painting a better picture with the idea of a cape roaming the city with minions so poorly controlled they’ll maul a Ward at the slightest provocation, you are severely mistaken.”

“It is better, though.” Miss Militia said. “It’s possible they only recently triggered and don’t yet have their power under control. Most take weeks or years to properly adjust to their powers. Someone scared and unable to control a strange new ability is much easier to deal with than an aggressive maniac.”

“You said ‘she’ though.” Armsmaster interrupted. “I thought you couldn’t make out anything about them?”

Aegis nodded. “The way she was dressed, I couldn’t tell she was a girl until she tried to talk to me.”

“We’re getting off track,” Piggot interjected, “We can discuss the specifics of the story once it’s finished. It attacked you, then what?”

“I grabbed its arms, managed to restrain it. It seemed fairly strong, but not to the point of being superhuman, so it wasn’t that hard.” Aegis stopped talking for a moment, absentmindedly reaching up to rub his mangled throat. “Then it bit me. Things… changed then.”

“Is that the reason why Vista called for Master/Stranger procedures?” Armsmaster asked.

Aegis nodded. “Once it bit me, I got pissed. It was like getting hit by one of Gallant’s blasts set to anger. I… killed the minion, then turned on the cape.”

“You’ve been describing it as a minion,” Piggot interrupted, “But when you killed it, did you know for certain that it was a Master minion and not a Case 53? Are you certain _now_?”

Aegis hesitated. “I’m certain it was a minion now, and I was certain as soon as I killed it. But before that… no. I didn’t know for certain.”

Piggot hummed, typing something on her computer. No one said anything, leaving Aegis to grapple with the realization that had just been raised to him. He hadn’t known. He knew for certain now, but then… He could have killed somebody. Thoughts of whatever punishment he might face for that action were far from his mind in comparison to the wave of guilt he felt.

He averted his gaze from the trio before him, looking down at his hands. They were bloodied, mostly, but not entirely, with his blood. His hands were shaking, and he knew his power meant there no physical reason for that, just a mental one. God, he could have _killed_ someone!

“And?” Armsmaster’s gruff voice cut off his thoughts.

Aegis tore his gaze away from his hands, taking a deep, shuddering breath to try and calm himself. “I… killed the minion. I tried to attack the cape, but before I could she created another monster.”

He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Even through six inches of plexiglass and a teleconference call, he saw Piggot stiffen. Many things about her personal life were a secret, whether through deliberate action on her part or just because no one poked into the matter, but the reason for her reaction was not. When you were one of only a handful of survivors from first contact with Nilbog, word got around.

“Created might be the wrong word,” Aegis hastily corrected, “It seemed more like she summoned them. They appeared out of thin air, vanished again when they were killed. No bodies left behind, no-”

“Stop.” Piggot said sternly. Aegis shut up immediately. From the look she was giving him, it was clear she knew why he was trying to change his wording. She still relaxed a fraction. Obvious or not, at least his attempts to reassure her that they weren’t looking at another Nilbog worked. Privately, Aegis hoped he hadn’t made a mistake and just undersold the potential threat.

When no one else spoke up, Aegis took it as his cue to continue the story. “She summoned another minion, it intercepted me. While I was wrestling with it, she tried to say something to me.”

He stopped talking, trying to find a good way to phrase what happened next. After a few seconds without him continuing, Armsmaster got impatient. “And?”

There really was no good way to say it, so Aegis just went for it. “And I interrupted her by threatening to kill her.” The admission was met by silence. Even the clacking of Piggot’s keyboard stopped. “And then I snapped the minion’s neck.” He continued sheepishly when no one else spoke to fill the quiet.

More silence. “Oh, Aegis.” Miss Militia said, breaking the silence with two words packed with more disappointment than he’d heard from anyone but his parents. He would have blushed with shame, but he didn’t have enough blood left in his body for that, and apparently it wasn’t important enough for his power to readjust his face for.

“Then what?” Armsmaster prompted.

Aegis sighed. “She summoned more to dogpile me and ran. I managed to call Vista, but the cape was already gone by the time she got there and the minions were too close to me for her to effectively use her power. I’m kind of hazy about what happened next, they kept biting me and the anger kept getting worse.”

“Vista left the bound Merchants for the police and found you being attacked by five unknown creatures.” Armsmaster said. He wasn’t looking straight at Aegis, but up and slightly to one side in the way that indicated he was looking at something in his visor. Presumably he was reading the notes from the PRT agent who debriefed Vista. “The creatures were already grappling you and clearly intent on doing harm, so she made the decision to use her power and isolate you, ensuring that they would stay focused on a target they couldn’t harm. You fought them, during which Vista noted a change in your behavior and called back to the console to enact Master/Stranger protocols.”

Aegis winced at that. He definitely remembered yelling at Vista, mostly in assorted insults, threats, and profanity. He’d tried apologizing on the ride back after his head cleared up, but that seemed to make her more annoyed than what he’d said in the first place.

“You proceeded to fight with the creatures for roughly twenty minutes, during which the creatures made no attempts to search for other targets, leave the area, or do anything other than attack you. The engagement concluded when you killed all five creatures.”

Aegis shuddered, looking back down at his hands. He remembered doing that, oddly with more clarity than what the cape had said to him. The fight… it hadn’t been pretty. They’d gone at him with tooth and claw, and he hadn’t held back with his strength at all. A memory flashed through his mind of grabbing one by the head and pushing his thumbs into its eye sockets, using the grip to pull its skull apart like a fruit. At the time he’d felt only a burning anger and a sort of grim joy at the violence, but now the thought just made him want to vomit.

“Afterwards you continued to be verbally aggressive towards Vista, causing her to keep up the spatial affect to contain you. Shortly after you reverted to typical behavior, though Vista did not drop the affect in case of a trick until the containment van arrived to collect you.”

“I remember the rest.” Aegis said, interrupting Armsmaster’s spiel. It had been an awkward ride, and he’d been shuffled off into this cell as soon as they arrived at PRT headquarters. He may have disliked her personality, but Aegis had to admit that as a professional, Piggot ran a tight ship. All the protocols and safeguards had been followed to a T, leaving no room for him to slip away or talk his way out if he had been Mastered.

“First things first.” Piggot said. “The emotion effect. Tell us about it.”

“It really only involved anger.” Aegis said. “It hit hard, made it difficult to think. I got more aggressive, but I also got sloppier. Looking back on it, even with five of them, I could have worked my way out of it a lot more easily. But I was too angry to think straight. I didn’t use my flight, couldn’t focus on the training we got to deal with that sort of thing. I basically just thrashed and hit as best as I could.”

Aegis tried not to show it, but that unsettled him. He prided himself on being more than a dumb brute, in both the literal and the power classification sense of the term. He could think on his feet in a fight, come up with strategies before one, and was good enough at both that he was going to be team leader next month when Triumph aged out of the Wards. Even outside of the cape gig, he was already out of high school and taking college courses. The idea that one hit could take his mind from him, make him little better than Lung…

Piggot nodded. “Of course, you understand why I can’t just take you at your word for that. You’ll spend the night in the cell until we can get Panacea to come give you a once-over for your injuries and check for anything floating around in your system. After that you’ll be under watch for a few weeks, or until we can get a Thinker to come by and verify that you’re clean.”

Aegis nodded glumly. He didn’t like it, but he accepted it was better than him potentially getting thrown back into a rage state at any time.

“So the cape.” Miss Militia said, redirecting the conversation. “What do you know about her?”

“She might be a recent trigger, but she didn’t trigger tonight.” Aegis said. “She had a bandanna and goggles to hide her face. It makes me think she already had powers and was going out to do something with them.”

“Do you know what that might have been?” Miss Militia prompted. “Vigilante work, as part of a gang?”

“We know she attacked the Merchants.” Piggot said.

“The little things Aegis mentioned the group fighting?” Miss Militia asked. “We don’t know for certain that was her.”

“Occam’s razor.” Armsmaster said. “Simpler for there to be one cape that can create two types of minions than two different capes that both summon minions in the same area at the same time.”

“True,” Piggot said, looking at something offscreen, “But I’m also looking at the preliminary interviews with the Merchants that were brought in. According to them, they were chasing a masked individual who had attacked one of their gatherings using several creatures.”

“Do the descriptions match the ones Aegis and Vista gave?” Miss Militia asked.

Piggot shook her head. “The Merchants that talked mentioned small bug like creatures that stripped a car to pieces before attacking them.”

Aegis noticed Armsmaster’s grip tighten a bit on his halberd. “Is there any evidence to back up these claims?” Aegis could have sworn there was a glimmer of some other emotion under his gruffness.

“There was, as they were helpful and high enough to give up the location of their party. The police found a mostly disassembled truck several blocks away, along with large quantities of drugs.”

Armsmaster nodded slowly. “So our cape can make two types of minions. Bug-things that can break down a car, humanoid monsters with a wrath-inducing bite… If there’s a theme to the power, I don’t see it.”

“It’s more likely that those aren’t the only minions she can make.” Miss Militia said. “Maybe she can pick from a broader list of minions that each have their own uses, or she can shape her minions into whatever form she chooses.”

“I think it’s more likely to be the first option.” Aegis supplied. “If she can shape her minions it would probably mean she _has_ to shape her minions, and she made them too fast for her to have spent any time planning them.”

“Powers aside,” Piggot said briskly, “What about the person, her personality?”

“I don’t think she would have been hostile if she knew it was me.” Aegis said. “I can’t remember exactly what she said, but she seemed apologetic about her minion attacking me. If it wasn’t for my… behavior, I think she might have even called it off.”

Miss Militia gave him a slightly incredulous look at that, but she didn’t say anything.

“It could have been a ploy.” Armsmaster said. “She’s surprised to see you so she sets an anger-inducing monster on you, then feigns remorse when she knows you’re not in a position to try and talk with her, then uses the excuse of your influenced behavior to attack you further. If you die she can claim self-defense, if not then she gets away and has a chance to build a false story she can use to garner sympathy.”

“Really?” Miss Militia said in an incredibly unimpressed tone. “An elaborate trick to attack one Ward without consequences is more likely than the idea that it was just an accident, that it attacked Aegis without her knowing in advance and she had to scramble to protect herself after he got influenced?”

“I was just raising the possibility.” Armsmaster said defensively.

“And I, for one, appreciate that.” Piggot said. “When dealing with a Master of unknown scope and scale, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. But for now, let’s talk best-case scenario. Aegis, how old would you way she was?”

“Young.” Aegis said. “Maybe college-aged, but at least a teenager.” It had struck him, he remembered, that she hadn’t sounded like an adult when she’d spoken. Or at least some level of that had seeped through the anger. Mostly he remembered being pissed that she was apologizing without stopping what her minion was doing.

“So she could be a potential Ward.” Miss Militia said.

“Assuming she’s the right age and has the right mindset.” Armsmaster added.

“Assuming.” Miss Militia admitted. “But if she is, she could benefit from the program. With a power like that, especially with the lack of control Aegis seemed to indicate, she would probably like the aid we can offer her to learn to control and make use of it.”

“The pay isn’t a half-bad motivator either.” Aegis added. He was only half joking. Money was always nice, and with college looming in the fall he was looking forward to being able to cash in in his Ward trust fund once he turned eighteen.

“So you’ve decided to attempt to recruit her into the Wards.” Piggot said, sounding slightly irritated. “May I remind you that she did commit battery with a parahuman ability on your first encounter with her, to a degree that would have killed anyone on the Wards team that wasn’t Aegis?”

“Be that as it may,” Miss Militia sad firmly, “I’m not going to judge her based on one incident that we don’t even know was fully under her control. I’d extend the offer to any suitable cape and we’ve seen nothing yet to say she isn’t one.”

“She did make a strike against the Merchants.” Armsmaster added. “That indicates some level of heroic preference.”

“Or she was making a strike for a rival gang, or just wanted to steal the drugs herself.” Piggot retorted.

“That wouldn’t explain why she tried to call 911 for the injured Merchants in the alley before Aegis showed up.” Armsmaster said.

Piggot’s eyes widened slightly. “How did you… Yes, your visor. But while the investigating officers _did_ report find a cellphone in the alley that had been used to call 911, there was no evidence that she was the one who made the call.

“Still, we’ve made our decision.” Miss Militia said.

“Though there is still another issue to address.” Armsmaster said. “The press.”

Piggot looked like she wanted to keep arguing her point, but let out a slow breath through her nose instead. “Yes, that.” She said. She turned to her computer offscreen, rapidly typing and clicking. Aegis shifted again in his seat, almost forgotten about now as he watched the discussion unfold in front of him. If nothing else, he’d have plenty to talk about with the other Wards tomorrow.

“Nothing’s showing up on PHO about it.” Piggot said after a minute or so. “Thanks to both the secluded area and the fact that most of the residents there don’t have quick and easy access to the internet, it seems her appearance has gone unnoticed for now. The Merchants who encountered her are all going to be looking at jailtime, so they won’t be in a position to spill anything to the press. It’s almost the ideal with how this played out. From the looks of things, nothing’s going to be showing up in the news about our new mystery cape unless we tell them about it.”

“And are we?” Aegis asked curiously. Maybe it was just because he’d gotten to have first contact with her, but by now he felt rather invested in whatever happened to the mystery cape.

“I’m going to have a press release written up, but not put out.” Piggot said. “As it stands, there’s too many unknowns for us to say anything about the subject except that there’s a new cape in the city. Over the next few days you’ll all be making an effort to try and recruit her or at least find out where she stands.”

Armsmaster nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Exactly. If things work out, the first the public knows about her will be a press release talking about the newest Ward or the newest villain taken into custody. So long as she doesn’t do anything to make the news herself in the meantime, everything should be set.”


	7. Prowl 2.1

I woke to the harsh beeping of my alarm clock. I groaned, rolling over to grab the offending device and shut it off. As I did so my legs flared to life with a dozen different pains. My half-asleep mind, still reeling from the recently silenced alarm, fumbled trying to remember why I felt so sore.

It came back to me in a flash, the long run that had taken me from the edge of Merchant territory back to home, ignoring the burning muscles and aching bones in favor of putting more distance between me and… Aegis. Right.

I buried my face in my pillow as if I could undo last night through sheer willpower. I had failed to actually capture any of the gangsters, failed to call an ambulance when I screwed up and two of them needed it, and capped it all off by attacking a Ward. Maybe it wasn’t technically a loss, I’d definitely screwed up some drug running, but I certainly couldn’t call it a win. My attempt to go back to school on a high note had ended entirely in disaster.

Which was an oh-so wonderful reminder that it was now Monday morning, my first day of school since the locker incident. I groaned a muffled curse into my pillow and dragged myself out of bed to dress for the day. In the process I ignored the part of me that begged to go back to sleep, that was already starting to fall asleep again just because I was still in bed and not moving. With what had happened last night, I couldn’t have gotten back before two in the morning, not that I had checked my clock before collapsing into bed. Five and a half hours to sleep, probably less, and I doubted I even used them. Running on nerves and residual adrenaline, I’d laid awake in that fugue state between wakefulness and sleep for hours.

Most of the time I’d been thinking, replaying what had happened, sometimes slipping into sleep as the memories transitioned into horribly realistic dreams of Aegis smashing through my window to drag me away. How those dreams ended varied but were always horrible. Thrown in jail, thrown off a roof, torn in half by the super-strong maniac, always waking me up when fear finally beat out exhaustion. More than once I’d nearly activated my power in the panicked instant I woke from a dream. If I’d gotten even an ounce of genuine, nightmare-free sleep, it had been in the five minutes before my alarm went off.

As I sorted through an assortment of equally featureless tops, my legs continued to twinge with soreness. My ankles, knees, and the bones of my shins all ached, every muscle from the waist down felt sore with every movement, and there was a point of pain on the side of one of my big toes that I was pretty sure was the beginnings of a blister. I was definitely paying the price for that extended run, especially with boots I hadn’t fully broken in.

Body checked over, I turned my attention to my power. The energy was there as it always was, though notably less than it had been when I’d woken up yesterday. I remembered assessing it when I got home last night and finding it nearly half of what it had been when I’d gone out. It was more than that now, but still closer to that halfway point than its full amount. Interesting, if nothing else, to get this chance to feel how my power charged over time.

Clothes sorted, I limped more than walked to the shower. It dawned on me that I hadn’t heard the shower this morning. Usually when Dad showered I woke up just a little, enough to register the rush of water through the pipes before falling back asleep for another hour. But today I’d slept right through it, or at least hadn’t been in a state to register it. It was a small thing, but it made me feel off, the unofficial schedule that determined my day skewed from step one.

I showered quickly and dressed before making my way downstairs. I hesitated on the steps as the smell of bacon and toast reached me, along with the sound of Dad moving around in the kitchen. Usually he’d left for work by now, leaving me on my own to get ready for school, sometimes with a breakfast consisting of whatever extra food he’d made and set aside for me. But either today he didn’t have to go in until later – unlikely, considering his job – or he’d decided to stay home an extra hour or so to see me off.

It was nice, and normally I would have felt touched by the gesture. But after what had happened last night, what I really wanted was some time alone, safe, and fully conscious to try and process it all. A father-daughter talk over breakfast was not what I wanted right now.

I shook my head to try and get my thoughts in order. I’d avoided him practically all last week, and even at dinner last night I had barely paying attention. If I ran from this now, tried to avoid another conversation with him when he just wanted to talk to me… After how much I’d resented him for it after Mom died, I refused to be the one to make us drift apart again.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the kitchen, doing my best to hide my newly acquired limp. Dad half-turned towards me from where he was flipping bacon in the pan to give me a grin. “Hey, kiddo.” Apparently I wasn’t hiding the limp well enough, because whatever he was going to say next got cut off as his expression changed to one of concern. “Did you hurt yourself?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I just got antsy yesterday and went for a run. I’m just feeling it now.” None of it a lie, but nothing close to the entire truth.

His frown didn’t lessen. If anything he seemed more unhappy, though he wasn’t looking at me as he moved the bacon onto a plate with some toast. A few seconds passed in silence as he grabbed the plate and put it on the table for me.

“You sound tired too.” He said as he got together a plate for himself.

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep much last night.”

“You were thinking about school.” It wasn’t a question.

I didn’t reply, which was as much of an answer as anything I could have said. I wasn’t really surprised he knew, but I wasn’t happy about it. He sat down across from me, plate of food left behind on the counter.

“If you want to take a few more days off…” He let it hang in the air, waiting for me to answer.

“No.” I sighed. “I have to go back eventually. No use delaying or I’ll just have more to make up.”

He didn’t seem entirely happy with that answer, but I didn’t think there was any answer that would have made him happy in this situation. He got up to retrieve his plate while I started digging in. We sat quietly for a minute, just eating our food without talking.

“I have another meeting with your principal later this week.” Dad finally said. “She seemed willing to cooperate last time we talked. I think we can get the school to cover the hospital costs.”

I nodded without saying anything. I’d met with Principal Blackwell a few times in the early months of the bullying. When I realized that meeting with her never actually did anything while only making the Trio more aggressive, I stopped bringing anything to her. If she was willing to cooperate, I doubted it was out of any genuine desire to help. If I had to guess, it was more likely he’d met with her in “rage mode” as the dock workers called it and she’d been cowed into at least pretending to be sympathetic. I’d only ever actually seen him fly off the handle once, when I was little and he brought me along on a work meeting that went sour, but I’d heard enough from the dock workers to know his temper was a thing to be feared.

He must have taken my silent reflection for nervousness, because he put down his food and reached across the table to put a hand on mine. “Hey.” He said quietly. “You know if anything happens, even if it’s not nearly as bad, you can tell me.”

The words sent a hot pang of frustration through me. The idea was nice, I couldn’t count the number of times I’d run through the conversation in my imagination where I told him everything about the bullying, about the Trio, about Emma. But I wasn’t sure I believed it. When it had first started, I hadn’t told him because he was still a wreck over Mom’s death. Better than he had been, but not well enough that I could drop that on him to deal with too. He’d gotten better in bits and pieces, but the habits from those early days stuck, and even now I wasn’t sure if telling him would do any good.

“Yeah. I know.” I said. My voice cracked a bit, but he didn’t comment. My thoughts turned to the locker. Fear churned in my stomach as I imagined returning to school. Would they have something like that waiting for me again? I’d thought that it must have been a one time thing, a major point in their campaign against me, but with the prospect of returning looming so soon, I couldn’t help but dread that it might have been the first step in a new level of their torments. The locker had been bad enough that I’d spent a week and a half in a coma. I wasn’t sure if I could handle that being the new norm.

Fishing around for some other thought to try and distract me, I remembered last night. The Merchant with the gun who had cornered me in the alley and tried to shoot me. Aegis, flying towards me with intent to maim or kill. I actually found some measure of resolve in those thoughts. I’d faced down actual threats, people who genuinely wanted me dead, and walked away without a scratch. And thanks to my power, they’d actually come out of it worse. If worst came to worst, I wasn’t helpless.

“I have to go to work soon. Do you have your pepper spray?” Dad asked, shaking me out of my thoughts. I didn’t miss the unspoken implications of the question, that he was essentially giving his approval to use it on someone if it seemed like there would be a repeat incident.

“Yeah.” I said. I’d taken it out of the pocket of my costume jeans and stuck it in the pocket of the pants I was wearing now when I’d picked out my clothes earlier. I hadn’t even thought of a reason when I’d done it, I just wanted it close to me after it saved me last night. Though thinking about it now…

I thought it over and made myself a promise. I’d decided last night that I would keep school separate from my cape life, and that went both ways. I wouldn’t be a victim as a cape like I was at school, and I wouldn’t sully that by being a cape at school. I’d use the pepper spray if I had to, but not my power, _never_ my power. No matter what happened or what they did, I wouldn’t use my power.

It wasn’t worth it. _They_ weren’t worth it.

* * *

 

I was hardly on the bus when I caught the glances whenever they thought I wasn’t looking, heard the whispers as hushed as the general noise of the bus would let them be. I ignored them as best I could, moving to the seat at the back that I always sat it. It was amusing in a way that despite every torment I’d been put through, no one ever just sat in my seat on the bus. The rules of the school were things to be broken and ignored, but the unspoken code that said people always sat in the same seats? That was ironclad.

Fortunately my seat was unmarked by vandalism or some pile of garbage. If I was being generous I’d say because the other riders didn’t want to be so cruel on my first day back, but it was more likely that they just didn’t have anything prepared because they didn’t know I was returning today. I took my seat, letting myself slide down so people in more distant rows couldn’t see me past the passengers between us. It was, I was sure, a futile move. Anyone looking for me had already seen me when I got on the bus, but it made me feel a little more secure.

The bus ride seemed over too soon. I didn’t get up as the bus pulled to a stop, letting everyone else file past me as I delayed getting off. I briefly contemplated trying to hide back her and not getting off at all. But that wasn’t an option. What I’d said to Dad was true, delaying things more wouldn’t help anything. I reluctantly pulled myself up and shuffled off the bus.

It didn’t take long before I spotted the Trio. Madison Clements, one of the traditionally popular girls at Winslow, though more due to who she knew than anything on her part. Sophia Hess, one of the better track and field members. A petty bully and a psycho, respectively. Rounding out their little bully triumvirate was Emma Barnes, my one time best friend, though that time had long since passed.

I saw Emma laugh at something Madison said, the exact same laugh I used to hear when I made a dumb joke or someone took a pratfall in the cartoons we watched together when we were little, another little reminder of what she used to be to me. Of what we used to be to each other. I still didn’t know why she had turned on me a year and a half ago, not only falling in with those two but _leading_ them in making me miserable. At this point, I didn’t think I really cared.

They were hanging around the entrance to the school, surrounded by a group of their lesser minions. Minions, not friends. The thought made me a bit uncomfortable. It reminded me a little too much of when I’d been testing my power, trying everything I could think of to get my beetleings to talk to me. None of it had worked. My power let me surround myself with things that would obey my orders, but it still left me alone.

I shook the thought off. No cape thinking, not here. Had to keep the two lives separate. I needed to focus on the here and now, ground myself. I wasn’t sure if someone had texted the Trio to tell them I was on the bus today or if they’d just been waiting out here every morning since the locker, but if I wanted to get into the school I’d have to go by them. Waiting them out and taking a tardy for first period was an option, but when the crowds of people going into the school thinned they’d have no trouble spotting me. Luckily, that wasn’t the only way into the school. One of the first things I’d done when I realized the bullying wasn’t going to stop was look into ways to get in and out of the school that would let me avoid the Trio. By then my social standing had been trashed enough I couldn’t just ask people about things like that, but I was good enough at blending into the background, and the kind of people who broke into a school overnight to drink weren’t exactly the most subtle in their conversations.

I went sideways from the bus drop-off area, circling the school. I was taking the long way but going the shorter way would have meant getting closer to the Trio and their gang. It took me long enough to get around the whole school that I wasn’t certain that it wouldn’t have been easier to just wait them out, but I eventually arrived at a small door by the outside of the gymnasium. From there it was just a matter of turning the door handle upwards sharply enough that the long worn-out locking mechanism popped out of place and I was free to slip inside.

I managed to make it to my first period classroom without incident. Monday, so it was math with Mr. Quinlan. He was an older man, heavyset and balding, with a tendency to drone on in the lesson long past the point where I already understood what he was trying to say. Not the best way to start off my return, but not the worst either.

I had a few glorious minutes of peace before Emma came in, just seconds before the bell. I caught a glimpse of her surprised expression when she saw me already here and couldn’t help but feel smug. That was quickly dashed when Mr. Quinlan loudly announced my return to class and asked whoever had been collecting the work for me to deliver it. Naturally, no one had anything to give me. Apparently two girls had both thought the other was collecting it for me, though their show of confusion and remorse was ruined by the smirk one of them shot me. I noticed Emma was grinning about that too, satisfied at pulling another one over on me.

I wouldn’t do her the favor of getting upset about it. I accepted their apologies with the sincerest tone I could muster and let the issue drop. Mr. Quinlan seemed to accept that and launched right into a lecture about sines and cosines.

I could tell the girls weren’t satisfied by my lack of reaction, but I ignored them. Just about everyone had made some move against me at some point or another, whether because the Trio encouraged it or they wanted to be like the “cool kids,” but only the Trio was committed enough to make it a persistent thing. They wouldn’t try doing something to make up for it, at least not so soon.

Emma, on the other hand, was clearly pissed. I could see her shooting me looks out of the corner of my eye. That was harder to ignore, but I did my best. Long hair does wonders for blocking peripheral vision when arranged the right way. That was a temporary solution though. I’d picked my seat in math class carefully, tucked in the back away from the pencil sharpener, trashcan, and anything else someone could use as an excuse to go past me. She wouldn’t be able to do anything to me now and she hadn’t had the chance to set up something before class, but I was definitely going to suffer afterwards.

I tried to distract myself with the worksheet Mr. Quinlan was passing out. Two weeks away meant the equations weren’t familiar to me, but what he’d written on the board was enough for me to find the section in the textbook and read through it. I half payed attention to his droning lecture as I tried to figure out the new types of equations presented to me. All the while I was ignoring all the students around me.

Class went by, mercifully, without a single prank or jab against me. As the downside, it seemed to go by much too fast. I was finishing up the last question on the first side when the bell rang to signal the end of the period. My first thought was to drag my feet, delay leaving the classroom and the barely-protective presence of the teacher. But I’d learned my lesson months ago. If I delayed leaving, I just gave them that much more time to prepare for me. Everything on my desk got hastily arranged and shoved into my bag in the blink of an eye. I was one of the first people out the door, despite sitting in the back.

It wasn’t fast enough. Madison was waiting there, standing in the way of my fastest route to my next class. I hesitated, preparing to turn around and go the other way. That brief pause was enough for Sophia to step in. I wasn’t sure where she’d been, but suddenly she was in my face, much too close for comfort. I shied away from her, realized my mistake when my shoulder bumped against the wall and they moved to box me in.

There were only two of them, so it wasn’t the most effective. One side was still left open, but I’d have to get closer to Sophia to get through. That was a surefire way to get tripped and sent sprawling in the middle of the hallway. I stayed where I was. Better to put up with this now than make it worse. They didn’t say anything, apparently content to just trap me here. A few seconds later Emma came out of the classroom, leisurely taking her place in the center of their little formation.

Anyone walking by would have seen three girls crowded around a fourth whose back was literally against the wall. Had to have seen, even, the rush of students through the hallway was the sort of thing that went from wall to wall. A stationary group like this was akin to a blockage in an artery, forcing the whole flow to shift around them. Dozens of students going by, all forced to adjust around the obstacle, looking around in annoyance to find the cause. None of them did anything. They never did. The group actually seemed to grow over the following seconds as passing girls realized what was going on and joined the cluster, eager to get in on the latest drama.

“So Taylor,” Emma said, starting off their little show, “Finally decided to come back? I hope you showered, but from the smell of it, you didn’t.”

“I bet she likes it.” Maddison piped up. “Covered in trash and gunk like that, I bet her room’s just like that.”

“I’ve seen her room.” Emma replied, though she didn’t look away from me. “The garbage would be an improvement.”

I didn’t reply, keeping my gaze lowered. Sure enough, whatever grace period I might have gotten was gone. They were going right for the locker. I’d had time to think about it, try to come to grips with the memory, but the mention of it still made my gut turn. My grip tightened on my backpack, my stance keeping it behind me against the wall. There was no way I’d ever use my locker again, which meant I’d packed my backpack with everything I needed for the day. Maybe a stupid decision, given the number of my backpacks they’d ruined, but the only one I was willing to make.

They started building up steam, the other girls pitching in their own little jabs and comments, splitting into two or three little groups that each kept up a continual barrage. The filth had reminded me of home, I’d been gone for two weeks because I was trying to become a crack whore, I still smelled like the locker, a dozen different insults every few seconds. They weren’t brilliant, mostly just whatever insulting or demeaning twist they could think of for the locker incident or my two-week absence, but it was still recent enough, raw enough that it was still a sore subject. I wasn’t even sure if would ever be anything else.

 It was a consistent pressure, meant to keep me off balance without a second to think or retort. They’d used the tactic before, but recognizing it didn’t mean I could do anything about it. Worse, some of the insults did strike home, and the sheer volume of them and the way they built on each other meant those were hammered in over and over with little variations and twists.

I wasn’t sure how long it had been going on by the time they started to lose momentum, just that the bell hadn’t rung to give me an out. My grip on the straps of my backpack was white knuckled, teeth gritted in frustration, but I didn’t give them the satisfaction of crying. I distracted myself by trying to pick apart their offensive in my head. Insults they repeated because they couldn’t think of anything else, insults that contradicted each other. They were little things, but they were flaws in the otherwise endless torrent of insults that I could focus on, ignoring the whole.

Emma seemed to realize they were losing tract, because she clapped her hands with an expression of exaggerated revelation, silencing the others and drawing attention back to her. “Oh! I almost forgot. Your stuff all got trashed in the locker, right?” Her tone was sickening in how fake her concern was. It only got worse when she shifted to a peppy, happy tone as she said, “They threw most of it out, but lucky for you, I managed to save something of yours!”

I felt a mix of dread and confusion. My first fear was that she’d saved a lump of that vile mass, but there was no way she’d be willing to touch it. I was a loss trying to think of alternatives as she rummaged in her bag. I hadn’t come up with anything before she pulled out a ziploc back and upended it, dumping the contents at my feet.

It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at. A flute. _Mom’s_ flute. When the bullying had started I’d taken to keeping it in my bag as a security blanket of sorts. It had only taken a little more than a month for them to find out and take it from me, delivering it back a week later smeared with and crammed full of gunk I avoided thinking about. It had been a blow, but it didn’t stop me. The flute was one of the few things I had left of Mom, so I cleaned it out, wrapped it up, and hid it in my locker. I’d thought they hadn’t known I still had it.

Apparently I had been wrong. It was barely recognizable as a flute now. It looked like someone had battered or crushed it, leaving it with two sharp bends in its length. More distinctive was that someone had taken a knife or file to it, scratching in words before going over them in sharpie to outline the scrapes. The whole thing was now decorated with profanities, the kind that no one used unless they genuinely meant to offend someone. One of the more prominent ones was a full sentence, mentioning Mom by name. Emma’s handiwork. Besides that there were discolored patches on it that marred the metal and obscured some of the words. I doubted that she’d actually reached into the mess they’d put in my locker just to dirty it, but they’d done something else they must have considered disgusting enough to match that.

Ever since I realized the bullying wasn’t going to go away, I’d told myself that violence wouldn’t work. They had too many connections to pull, were too popular for a fight to get recorded as anything but my fault. Besides that, I suspected that not only could Sophia beat my teeth in if I tried, she’d do it with glee and claim self-defense.

All of those thoughts had helped me keep myself in check, but seeing the flute like this, it was very hard to consider them. Confusion and shock twisted into anger in the instant it clicked for me what I was seeing. In different circumstances I might have cried or gone numb, but the raw hurt of seeing Mom’s flute like this and the additional insult that it was Emma to do this was too much.

I’d told her, the first time she’d taken the flute, that she was crossing a line. That she had known my mom, shouldn’t insult her memory like this no matter how much she hated me. It hadn’t helped then, and the months between then and now clearly hadn’t changed anything. I was acutely aware of the pepper spray in my pocket. It wouldn’t take much to pull it out and spray the whole ring of girls in front of me, then escape.

No, even as I imagined it I knew I wouldn’t try to escape. If I did that, gave myself that opening, I’d attack her, damn the consequences. I hated her too much in this moment to do anything else. My hand clenched tighter on the strap of my bag as I warred with myself about what to do. Emma was still looking at me, a wide grin spread across her face.

My power surged to the surface.

Anger immediately gave way to fear. I tried to clamp down on my power, prevent the energy from forming into some monster, but it was hard. I’d likened the feeling of the energy to a stomach when I was first trying to get a grasp of it, and that felt appropriate now. When my pool of energy had been full, it had felt like my stomach did when I ate to the point of being sick, where I felt like I could throw up at any moment if I got jostled too much. It wasn’t as full now as it had been then, but it was even more insistent to empty itself. If being full had felt like being stuffed and bloated, this was like actually having to throw up.

I couldn’t let that happen. If I summoned something, I doubted it would be a beetleing. Memories flashed through my mind of last night, the way my monster had torn through those two Merchants, had mangled one of the toughest capes in the city. If I let that thing form here it would be a bloodbath. With how fast it had moved, even the brief second it would take me to order it to stand down would be enough for it to maul at least one person.

The energy refused to be forced back down. I’d stopped it from forming something for now, but it was still just below the surface on the superpowered equivalent of a hair trigger. I was aware Emma was still saying something, but I wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. Normally I would have loved to be able to tune her out so effectively, but I wasn’t in any state to enjoy it. I had to get out of there.

I moved abruptly, pushing between Madison and one of the random hangers-on that had gathered around me. They didn’t move out of my way but they didn’t deliberately try to stop me either, their hands-off attitude to bullying finally working in my favor. Someone grabbed my backpack and I slid my arms out of it without looking back, letting them have it. Losing everything in it would be a blow, but better than whatever else might happen if I tried to fight for it.

I shoved my way out of the group and ran. I heard Emma yelling after me but I couldn’t tell what she said. All that mattered was getting away from them. I didn’t head to my next class. Instead I went for an exit. If I stayed, there’d just be another meeting like this waiting during lunch or after school, dozens of tiny insults and pranks scattered throughout the day in between. There was no way things would end well if I let that happen.

The energy was still roiling as I pushed through the exit and half-ran to the nearest bus stop. What I needed to do was get away, get somewhere safe. And what I wanted to do was hit something. A _lot_.

* * *

 

Hitting things hurt, or at least it did when you were a scrawny teenager punching the side of an old railcar. Frustration carried me through the first few blows, but by the tenth the ache in my knuckles overruled my pent-up anger. Luckily, I had other avenues for my frustration.

My power had been a continuous pressure the whole trip here, making the bus ride and walk away from the school seem torturously long. By the time I reached the little section of the Trainyard I’d come to think of as mine it had died down a little, but kept coming back to the surface every time I thought about Emma. It had been laughably easy to summon my monster this time, to the point that I just let it happen more than I tried to do anything.

After setting it to throw junk around and generally have a tantrum on my behalf, I had finally calmed down enough to focus. The warm front Brockton Bay had enjoyed last week was ending, bringing back the frigid January temperatures, but sating my curiosity was a stronger impulse than getting out of the cold.

The creature that stood before me was the same thing I’d summoned last night, I was certain of that. Seeing it in the daylight felt weird, like seeing some half-remembered dream creature in real life. Without the dim flickering light of the alley I could make out more details as I circled it while it stood still.

Naked and gaunt as it was, it wasn’t thin. It was more of a lean kind of strength with muscles tight to bone. Speaking of which, its muscles were definitely different from a humans, or at least from mine. I had it go through some ranges of motion so I could see the muscles move. It should have felt weird, standing and watching this thing’s body as it moved, but it didn’t. It didn’t even feel like I was looking at someone else. It was more like watching my own hand as I flexed it to see the tendons move under the skin.

It was still a strange feeling, though more because it didn’t innately feel strange, but I filed it away for now. I didn’t want to get into some existential crisis about whether I considered my monsters to be a part of myself. When I decided I’d examined it enough, it was less out of satisfaction with what I’d learned and more because I realized what I was seeing didn’t really mean anything to me. I wasn’t a biologist or a doctor, just someone who thought the way its body was set up was interesting.

And it was definitely interesting. Different muscles around the head and neck to work its split jaw, different arrangements of muscles in its lower body that I assumed was to help it balance with its multi-jointed legs. The torso was definitely strange, with the muscles of its chest and shoulders arranged unlike any diagram I’d ever seen in my science textbook for either sex. Maybe it was because its hunched posture and differently proportioned limbs needed different things from its muscles than a human, but I didn’t have the knowledge to do anything with that information. It was just a curiosity.

Gawking at my own creature aside, it was time to test. I summoned a beetleing so I could compare the two and started giving them challenges. Almost instantly it proved it was better at almost everything, not surprising even when only taking the size difference into account. It was strong, fast, not to the point of being superhuman but still a level of fitness that would take me months of hard work to even approach.

The only thing it wasn’t better at was the sabotage. While the beetleing quickly stripped down a padlock, the monster didn’t seem to have a clue how to even start. I’d suspected as much before I’d started but I wanted to be sure. The claws, the fanged mouth, the strength, everything about it spoke to it serving a different role. The beetleings were small, stealthy, skilled at sabotage, while this thing was a fighter.

Of course that raised even more questions. If I could make two monsters to serve specific functions, could I make others? My gut said yes, if only because it would be weird for a power to have the bizarre limit of only two types of creatures for only those two specific roles. But if it came down to actually summoning something new…

I’d first summoned a beetleing when locked in the locker, and I’d first summoned the second monster when being attacked. Both were first summoned in response to my need for a particular type of aid. The first to break me out of the locker and the second to fight off the Merchants. If the pattern held, and I had no reason to think it wouldn’t, I’d need to be in similarly pressing situations with a particular need to fulfill to summon something new.

That was discouraging. Both of those occasions had been bad and I dreaded the thought of being cornered and helpless again. I tried to put it out of my mind. If that was how my power worked, I couldn’t do anything about it. But if I was wrong, I couldn’t afford to let myself get put in a situation like that out of some half-conscious hope that it would give me the push I needed to improve my power. No, I’d play it safe. Like the beginning, I’d act under the assumption that what I had now was all I would ever have.

Except that beginning was all of a day ago, and even then I’d been hasty. I shuddered as I remembered facing down that gun in the alley. If beetleings had been all my power was, I’d probably be dead now. I’d have to be more careful in the future.

Practice, that’s what I needed. But going out as a cape within the next week or two would just be begging to be arrested for what I’d done to Aegis, even if it was an accident. I could spend that time laying low and practicing with my power, but sooner or later I’d hit the limit of what I could learn about my power and my monsters on my own. I’d find a way. Better to be bored and antsy than arrested.

I turned my attention back to my monster. “Can you talk?”

Just like the beetleing, the monster didn’t answer. Also just like the beetleings, I needed a better name for these things than just “monster.” It didn’t look like any kind of animal, so some sort of theme naming between it and the beetleings was out. Something like mauler or mangler might work, but that was too villainous, plus it uncomfortably reminded me about what they’d done to Aegis. Savage, maybe? Yeah, that worked. It made sense whether you were looking at it as the adjective or the verb, couldn’t go wrong with a double meaning.

Just like my beetleings, my savage didn’t answer. Disappointing, but not unexpected. By now I was pretty certain my monsters were little more than mindless servants, with enough brainpower to understand and obey orders but not enough to think for themselves.

I could get into that later once I asked it more questions and gave it more orders. Hopefully I’d figure something out, it was getting more and more frustrating how I kept turning up more questions and theories than actual answers with my practice. Though I did have an idea of what to try next. Last night a beetleing had been about to smash a man’s head with a tire iron, but it had stopped and hit him in the shoulder instead. Maybe it was coincidence, but I’d seen what it was going to do and didn’t want it to. If I was right, I didn’t need to actually speak to them to give them orders. Combined with my range, that had a lot of potential if I was right.

I thought it over, trying to decide what to tell my savage to do. Before I could decide I heard a loud crash. I spun around to see the chain link fence behind the caboose topple to the ground. I heard movement behind me as my savage rushed towards the disturbance, but I flung a hand out and stopped it. My mind was racing. Maybe it was just some chance collapse, but if it was something else I couldn’t afford to let my minions show themselves.

The feeble hope that it was just some coincidental thing ended as I heard heavy footsteps moving around on the other side of the caboose. I didn’t have my costume, or even anything to hide my face, but I walked towards the fallen fence. My minions moved forward in the same general direction but they stopped by the caboose as I went to walk around it. If I was lucky, whatever or whoever this was would focus on me and wouldn’t go past the caboose.

I was only a few steps around the caboose when a massive metal hand reached around the side, clamping onto the corner. I stopped in my tracks as I saw the metal distort under the strength of grip. Heavy footsteps sounded as the owner of the hand stepped into view. The hand was part of a full suit, a messy, ramshackle thing of scrap metal and spare parts, with prominent smokestacks protruding from the back. There was no helmet, revealing the face of a man, Caucasian, heavy cheeked, and acne scarred. He had long greasy hair tied back in a ponytail and a pair of welding goggles over his eyes.

I wanted to step back and put distance between myself and him. Instead I forced myself to stay where I was and meet his gaze as he looked down at me. I knew him, or at least knew of him. Trainwreck, an independent supervillain who showed up a year or so ago. No murders that I knew of, but dangerous enough that the Protectorate had made at least two dedicated efforts to capture him and failed, despite having the likes of Armsmaster on the local team.

Now he was right in front of me. In a matter of two steps he could grab me, and I was definitely less sturdy than a metal train car. Three steps, and he could see my hiding minions. Potential maiming, or getting outed as a cape, both very possible in a matter of seconds. The morning wasn’t going much better than the night.


	8. Prowl 2.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taylor meets a supervillain. Things could go better.

I stood stock still, staring at the supervillain in front of me. Every impulse in me said to back away or run, put some distance between myself and the hulking metal man. Instead I stood my ground. I knew that almost certainly would seem like I was challenging him, but the alternative had too much risk to expose my minions, and thus my identity as a cape.

Trainwreck looked down at me, taking a single step forward. From the sound it made, I was sure that he probably could have crushed an engine block underfoot just from the weight of his suit. Less distance between us now, but I still didn’t move.

He grunted at me, apparently surprised at me. “The fuck are you doing here?” The tone was wary, unfriendly, but not outright hostile.

I swallowed nervously. I really needed to start coming up with alibis ahead of time. “I… I just wanted to get away from people.” Same tactic as with Dad, enough of the truth to be genuine but not enough to be incriminating. I was a little displeased to realize I was developing a dedicated tactic for lying to people.

His brow scrunched above his goggles in a way that made me think he was narrowing his eyes at me. “That so? You don’t look like a bum, and we’re a bit away from the streets.”

Again, the same tone. Not friendly, but not hostile. It dawned on me that he probably mistook my forced boldness for being too scared to run. Which wasn’t entirely off the mark, but it still made for a good excuse for why I was still here.

I couldn’t treat him like I did school bullies. I didn’t have the restriction of the school keeping me here, so I didn’t have an excuse for why I wasn’t running away, and that was the very issue that he was taking objection to. And that meant that just trying to stay quiet and ignore him would be a very bad option.

So I had to keep talking. Not the easiest thing given my acquired shyness, especially in this situation, but I needed to keep his attention on me. “Yeah,” I admitted, “I wasn’t really near here. But I really wanted to get away and this place seemed empty, so-”

“Well it ain’t, is it?” Trainwreck interrupted me. He took another step forward, his arm now stretched back to maintain his hold on the caboose. “This place ain’t empty, it’s _mine_. And I don’t want someone running around on my fucking turf!”

His grip tightened on the caboose and he heaved forward on the train car. I heard things hiss and ping in his suit as he brought his whole body into the motion, but nothing broke or exploded. The caboose was dragged forward, teetering precariously from his grip on its upper side as if it might fall over entirely. I watched in fear, not just because of the raw power he displayed in the motion, but because my minions were scrambling back from the sudden shift in the caboose’s position.

The savage was able to dodge back easily, moving away from us to the far end of the train where it shifted less. The beetleing wasn’t so lucky. It had been huddled by the wheels and the sudden shift caught it off guard. It was knocked down and trapped beneath the wheels as they shifted, scrabbling to try and free itself.

A second later the caboose shifted again as Trainwreck released his hold on it, letting it settle back onto the ground with a loud crash. The beetleing, trapped under the wheels as it was, didn’t have a chance to get away. It was crushed under the weight, unfolding back into nonexistence with the characteristic sound of my power. Unfortunately, that sound was not a quiet one.

Trainwreck was immediately on guard. He straightened up, looking around warily. By now he was right in front of me but I didn’t dare move. I was afraid any movement on my part would make him round on me, and as close as he was, I wouldn’t have a hope of getting away.

In a small bit of luck, Trainwreck’s movement of the caboose with his advance had left it at an angle that still hid my savage from his current position. I had to force myself not to look at it, focusing instead on the villain in front of me. Something in the forearm of his armor clunked as it adjusted position, some of the crude plating of the exterior shifting their places as whatever it rose up.

“The fuck was that?” He said. The wariness was still there, but there was definitely aggression now. He turned, preparing to look around the caboose.

I did the only think I could think of: keep talking. “What?” I asked, not even trying to hide my nervousness.

He rounded back on me, raising the arm where something had adjusted. I couldn’t tell what it was, some sort of tube with roughly welded together a sphere at the front end, but I knew it probably wasn’t good to have pointed at me. Running really seemed like a good option now, except now he was actively suspicious.

“You bring some friends here?” He asked. Oh yeah, he was definitely mad now. “Planned to mess with my shit while you thought I was gone?”

It occurred to me that he had just all but confirmed he kept some of his stuff nearby. Clearly not close since I had been coming here for a few days now without drawing his attention, but close enough. Something to think about later.

I shook my head. “No, I’m alone, I swear!”

It was a herculean effort to keep myself from looking at the savage. It was still crouched at the other end of the caboose, hidden for now but still clear to see as soon as he poked his head around the corner. If there was ever a time to learn to command my minions without actually speaking to them, it was now.

I focused on it, trying to convey the command for it to move, to hide. For a moment I thought I felt something through my connection to it, but I was too focused on Trainwreck to really pay attention. The supervillain moved to look around the corner but the savage was already moving, backing up and around the side of the caboose. In the second it took Trainwreck to reposition himself and look, it was already out of sight. I still wasn’t sure if it had responded to my command or acted under its own instincts, but at the moment I didn’t really care.

Trainwreck twisted his body to look around the area, apparently unable to move his head in his armor, trying to look for someone else without moving too far from me. The arm with the attachment still loomed close, dissuading any attempts to escape. For a moment I considered summoning some beetleings to attack him from behind while he was distracted. I dismissed the idea just like I’d dismissed the idea of running. Far too easy for him to just cave in my head or my ribs with a casual hit and put an end to anything I tried.

Apparently unable to see anything from where he was, Trainwreck rounded back on me. He brandished a clenched fist at me, as effective a threat as any club or baseball bat. “I ain’t gonna put up with any more shitheads coming here to fuck with me. I won’t kill kids, but that doesn’t mean I won’t rough you up a bit if you don’t fuck off.”

I backed up a step before the previously ruling paranoia overrode the fear of bodily harm again. He was giving me an out and I’d be stupid not to take it. But my savage was still here. There was no way I could get far enough away for the range to kick in and deconstruct it before Trainwreck found it. Leaving now would mean he found it, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to put two and two together.

Falling asleep wasn’t an option either, unless I wanted to try and let him knock me out and there was no way I was going to do that. Maybe I could have it run and hide, but that depended on me trying to command it without him noticing and its own skill at avoiding his notice. Between the fact that I still couldn’t exactly command it with my mind and the fact that I didn’t know what sensors or gadgets he had in that suit, there were too many variables that could go wrong.

Could I fight him? Common sense said no, both because of the risk to my identity and to my general wellbeing. All it would take was one good hit and I’d be done for. If it came down to survival I’d try it, but only as a last resort. Could I take him? Maybe. He depended on the suit and my beetleings were great at breaking things like that, but they were fragile. The savage lurking behind the caboose, less so. With it as a distracting opponent while the beetleings worked to break him down…

My thoughts were going a mile a minute. There were no good options here that I could see, no solution where I walked away uninjured and with my identity as a cape intact. He was too on edge to try and talk down, I couldn’t make my savage flee, running would expose me, and fighting would expose me and see me injured or killed.

I took a step back from Trainwreck, trying not to piss him off by refusing to leave while still keeping his attention on me. There had to be _something_ I could do. I latched onto the same idea as last night, that there was no way I would let someone this low on the totem pole be the one to bring me down.

In the process of fumbling for a thought or idea that would work, I hit on my connection to the savage. I’d gotten used to ignoring the connections except when they vanished, using them as little more than a way to keep track of where my minions were. If there was ever a time I absolutely needed to find out how it worked, it was now.

I seized on the connection to the savage. My next step back nearly caused me to stumble as I was swamped by sensation. It was like seeing, hearing, smelling, all senses at once but none of them. I couldn’t even parse what it was trying to tell me. But giving up wasn’t an option.

I gritted my teeth and steadied myself, still keeping a watchful eye on Trainwreck. He was still watching me, but he wasn’t moving to follow. The connection was confusing, orderly but not in a way I could easily understand. It was, I imagined, like being blind and suddenly being able to see, a whole new sense I wasn’t used to. Still, I could feel something about its form. A sense of movement on a mental level, drawn to me from it, along with empty pathways and a solid underlying core.

The core was responsive. I could feel it adjust with my focus, becoming more solid as I focused on it. I got a sense of it as I focused on it, a sort of tension waiting to be unleashed. I wasn’t sure what would happen if it was. But I was also out of ideas, and my power had helped me before when I didn’t know what it was doing. I seized on that connection and pulled.

For a moment I felt the entire connection snap taut. Then it vanished, but not like it had before. The connection snapped back into me, and with it I felt my energy pool surge as it increased its charge. The sensation came with the sound of a minion appearing or disappearing coming from behind the caboose.

Trainwreck whirled towards the noise and I took the opportunity to run. I went for the part of the fence I usually came and went through, stepping on a discarded milk crate to boost myself up and start climbing the fence. With my height and the bonus from the crate, it only took me a second to swing my legs up and over to drop down on the other side.

From behind me I heard a loud hiss that reminded me of the hydraulics from some of the equipment used at the Docks, followed by a loud crash as something struck the chain-link fence. My power surged to the surface but I forced it back down. Using my power to defend myself now would ruin the whole point of running away. I didn’t look behind me, I just kept running.

“Yeah, you better run, fuckhead!” Trainwreck yelled.

I didn’t hear the distinctive thumping of his heavy footsteps, nor another hydraulic hiss. I spared a glance back as I squeezed through the next fence. He wasn’t chasing me. He was still watching me though, and that was enough motivation to keep running.

I was exhausted by the time I got to the edge of the Trainyard. Running on a flat surface had been bad enough, running while also having to squeeze through or climb fences was so much worse. I was breathing heavily, but I forced myself to straighten up and keep walking.

The walking actually managed to help with the ache in my chest, giving me something to focus on. Encountering Trainwreck was definitely not how I’d thought today would go. It disturbed me to think that he might have been close by all these days I’d been coming to the Trainyard. If things had gone a little differently, with a little more bad luck, he might have known I was a cape.

What-ifs and could-have-beens weren’t going to help me. So I tried to focus on something more productive as I made my way to the bus stop. My power naturally came to mind. I still wasn’t sure if I could command my minions without speaking. I really hoped I could. There were too many things that could interfere with giving verbal orders, distance for one. If I didn’t need to actually speak to command them, it opened up a lot more options for hanging back out of sight and letting my minions take the risks.

I didn’t want to think about the other option, that my minions had enough intelligence to act on their own impulses. If they could act without my orders… Last night was still fresh in my mind. I’d lucked out with Aegis. If it had been any of the other Wards, or even just a random passerby, my savage’s impulsive attack could have ended much worse. I really didn’t want them to be able to think for themselves, even if it did mean my power could only surround me with mindless drones.

My thoughts were still in turmoil as I boarded the bus. I’d have to test my power more to figure it out, but I’d just lost my practice area. Though I supposed I gained more than I lost there with the new insight into my power.

I’d run as soon as I heard the sound of my power. I couldn’t say why, but I was certain that the savage was gone. Part of that was baseless, a gut feeling. I wondered if it was this sort of instinctual feeling that told other people how to use their powers. If it was, it sure was a hell of a time for my power to be helpful in my attempts to understand it.

The other part was the surge I’d felt in my energy pool. I had a good enough sense of it that I knew its stored energy had increased when the savage vanished. Not enough to replenish the amount I’d expended summoning it in the first place, but a decent chunk. It was almost as promising as the potential for silent commands.

Being able to regain the energy I used to summon my minions, dismissing them in the process, could be very useful. I was well aware that my energy pool wasn’t infinite. It could run out, it had an upper limit to how much it could hold, and it recharged fairly slowly. I’d have to test more to figure out how reclaiming the energy worked, whether it was a percentage or a flat amount regardless of minion or random, but it was a way to delay running dry. And as a bonus, I didn’t have to worry about leaving minions in hiding anymore.

The thought didn’t quite cheer me up, but it gave me a sense of satisfaction. I shook myself out of my thoughts on that high note, looking out the window of the bus to try and get my bearings. I had the rest of the day to kill before going home around when school would let out, and I didn’t have a good outlet to practice my power right now. I needed to find something to do.

A particular building caught my eye and my interest as the bus pulled into a stop. Now there was an idea. I got up and made my way off the bus, crowing the street to my destination. I’d spent some time in the hospital and at the library looking up the local cape scene and researching Brockton Bay’s, reading forums, wikis, and occasionally an actual news article. Still, despite my research there was one local group I hadn’t looked much into. Maybe it was because I didn’t think it was important, maybe I was worried what I would find, but I only knew the basics compared to the other groups in the city. And with fortune dropping an opportunity for firsthand research at my feet, I wasn’t about to say no.

The Brockton Bay PRT Headquarters loomed over me. The exterior was all reflective windows, distinguished from the surrounding buildings only by the organization’s shield logo over the main entrance. I pushed my way through the double doors and walked into the lobby. It wasn’t my first time in the PRT headquarters, I’d bugged Mom and Dad let me go on the tour for my birthday at some point in grade school. The memory hit me with a pang of nostalgia and a little bit of sadness as I looked around. 

The front desk stood at the back of the lobby as men and women in suits streamed in and out of elevators and hallways. Mixed in with them were tourists and other sight seers, mostly clustered around the gift shop that dominated one side of the lobby. Four foot tall posters of various Wards and Protectorate members hung from the walls, showing off the local team.

Amid the hustle and bustle stood PRT troopers, stationed at the edges of the room. They wore sleek body armor and full-face helmets, half holding grenade launchers and the other half holding weapons that looked like flamethrowers. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I had technically assaulted a Ward last night as I saw them looking over the room, their mirrored visors giving them an ominous look.

I looked away from them before one of them could meet my gaze and make it suspicious, only to find myself looking at a brightly smiling woman who had approached while I was distracted. She was wearing nice clothes that couldn’t quite be called a uniform with a name tag that identified her as ‘Marya.’

“Hello!” she said in an overly-excited tone. “Are you here for a tour?”

I nodded, then hesitated. “Actually, can you tell me tours that go to the Wards’ section? I heard about that, but I think it cost extra?’

Marya nodded, her smile not faltering an inch. “Normal tours are twenty-five dollars and go every half-hour. The premium tours are every two hours from nine to seven and cost a hundred dollars.”

I winced a bit at that. I hadn’t really considered the price in my impromptu plan. I had the money, but it’d leave me down to my last couple bucks, and I’d need more if I wanted to get a new bus pass in a month. Still, I’d come this far. I wasn’t about to miss a chance to check out the team I was hoping to join.

“Okay. Where do I pay?”

She managed to smile a little wider and led me to the front desk where she handed me a paper and pen. Reading it over, it looked like a disclaimer acknowledging that there would be PRT troopers accompanying the tour group and I could be removed at any time if they deemed it necessary. That part made me nervous. If they had ways of detecting capes and I tripped security, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to label me a threat. I wouldn’t even blame them if they did, sneaking in with a tour group seemed likes something that had probably been tried before.

I signed the paper anyways and handed it over to her along with the money. I normally wasn’t in the habit of carrying that much on me, but luckily I’d left it in the pocket of these jeans after I went shopping for cape supplies on Friday. It still wasn’t in a wallet though, sitting in my left pocket with my wallet as a decoy in my right holding only a few coins. Habits die hard.

“Thank you!” Marya said. “The next premium tour will be in half an hour, so just be in the lobby then and look for the tour group.”

I had time to kill before the tour, so I made my way over to the gift shop. Merchandise lined the shelves, some the generic stuff for the PRT and the big names in the Protectorate and a larger portion dedicated to the local heroes, even some stuff for the PRT itself. Some was the typical household items but with superhero brands, like Dauntless phone cases and Velocity running shoes. Other shelves held stuffed toys, action figures, and even collectible statuettes for cape nerds with the money to spare.

The hero with the most merchandise here was Armsmaster. It made sense, he was both a local hero and one of the bigger Protectorate heroes overall. His face was on everything from the inch-high cheap plastic toy sets to big glossy posters featuring the likes of Eidolon and Dragon. I’d even had some underwear with his logo on it. But his stuff wasn’t what I wanted to look at.

I was looking for the Wards stuff. There wasn’t much, less even than the generic merchandise with the PRT logo plastered onto it. A few collectable cards, the occasional actions figure without moving joints, some small posters. I’d wanted to known what kind of stuff would get sold in my image if I joined the Wards, and apparently the answer was ‘not much.’

It was actually kind of a relief. No having to worry about licensing fees and contracts for a dozen different collectables, or whether my scrawny physique would be immortalized forever in action figure form, which was presumably the point. Selling things in the image of minors probably wasn’t the most cut-and-dry area of business.

I was examining a package of PRT trooper styled army men when a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I froze immediately as habit kicked in. My anxiety was clear on my face as I looked over my shoulder, half expecting to see Sophia. Instead I saw a police officer.

The recognition calmed me for half a second before nervousness kicked back in. Had they made me as a cape? That particular fear was quickly calmed. No, I was in the PRT _headquarters_. If they knew I was a cape and wanted to deal with me, they had muct stronger options than a single police officer. Still, freezing up and a fearful look did nothing to make me seem innocent.

“Excuse me, miss.” He said. “Where are your parents?”

The question threw me for a loop. Out of everything I’d been fearing, I hadn’t expected that question. “I’m… not here with them.” I said.

He hummed as if in thought. “It’s a school day, isn’t it?”

It clicked. Teenage girl on her own in the middle of a school day. He thought I was a truant. Which wasn’t technically inaccurate, but still. I felt a mix of confusion and relief. In the middle of planning and thinking as a cape, and with my encounter with Trainwreck, I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be in school right now.

“I have permission to be absent.” I said.

He hummed again. “For what reason.”

Fuck. I had an excuse, the same one that had gotten me out of school for real for last week, but I really didn’t want to have to tell a stranger even the generalities. “I can give you my dad’s number to call.” I said, dodging the question.

He nodded, finally taking his hand off my shoulder to pull out a notepad. “Please do.”

Well, that was it for getting away with this. I gave him Dad’s work number and he dutifully wrote it down. We were drawing stares, so he led me out of the building and down the street a ways to his patrol car. As soon as we were there he pulled out a cell phone and promptly dialed the number, keeping an eye on me the whole time.

I had to wonder if he’d just happened to see me or if someone had called him. Coincidence seemed unlikely, but that was how they worked, wasn’t it? If someone had called him, I’d be seriously pissed if it had been one of the PRT workers and they’d waited until after I paid for the tour.

The officer was talking into the phone, but I did my best to ignore what he was saying. Just from the tone of the half of the conversation I could hear, it wasn’t great. Less than a minute later he hung up.

“Well?” I asked.

Without answering, he opened the back door of the patrol car. So that’s how it was going to be.

“Can I at least get my money back? I paid for a tour.”

“That’s outside of my power. You’ll have to see what the PRT’s policy is on refunds.” He said flatly.

A refund for a tour that would be starting in half an hour. So probably not. Damn it, that hadn’t been cheap. I sighed and got into the back of the car. He closed the door behind me and went around to climb into the driver’s seat.

“Do you need to know my school address?” I asked dryly. After the Trio and Trainwreck, I couldn’t really bring myself to be upset about this.

“No need.” He said as he pulled out into the street. “Your dad told me your home address.”

The little bit of hope I’d been holding onto vanished. I’d had the idle thought that maybe they really had made me as a cape and this was some way to get me out of the headquarters without drawing attention to me, maybe so they could try and recruit me. But I recognized the intersections and we were definitely on our way to my house.

It actually made me a little angry. There were so many things wrong with Brockton Bay. The drugs, the squatter towns, the gang violence. The fact that there was a gang full of literal Nazis in the city whose biggest opponent was gang of sex traffickers led by a dragon, neither of which had been shut down by the local heroes. And yet truancy was the one thing they were competent at dealing with?

I stewed in my annoyance the whole ride home. Occasionally my frustration would hit a peak and my power would flare up, but I was easier to stamp back down now then it had been at school. Maybe it was because of the different situations, maybe it was some unknown detail about my power, and _damn_ was I sick of maybes.

My heart sank when we finally arrived at my house and Dad’s car was in the driveway. If he’d left work for this, I couldn’t imagine the imminent conversation going well. The officer let me out of the car and led me up to the front door. I was at least spared the indignity of having him hold me by the elbow as he rang the doorbell.

Dad opened the door fast enough that I was sure he’d been standing or pacing just inside the door. “Taylor.” He said, a note of tension in his voice.

I didn’t meet his gaze. “Dad, I…”

The officer spoke before I could decide what to say. “Sir, your daughter was at the PRT headquarters at eleven thirty-four today, a time when she should have been in school. When we spoke over the phone, you said she wasn’t permitted an absence today-”

“And I also said I’d like to speak to my daughter myself, something I can’t do while you’re doing all the talking.” Dad snapped at the officer.

The officer’s jaw tightened, but he stopped talking. He nodded stiffly, giving me a chance to talk. I didn’t say anything, still trying to figure out what I wanted to tell him. I would have rather faced down Trainwreck again than feel the mix of embarrassment and shame I did now.

After a few seconds of silence, Dad spoke up. “You said you’d go to school today.” His tone was still tense, but it wasn’t angry. Not disappointed either, I couldn’t quite place it. Both of those, but suppressed out of concern?

I nodded. “I did. And I tried, but…” I trailed off, trying to gather my thoughts. Trying to explain would mean talking about the bullying, and even if he knew about the locker I still didn’t want to tell him everything. A lie, then.

“I got there and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tried but I didn’t… I couldn’t…” My voice cracked. That part was wholly genuine. Just talking about it this vaguely brought back the memories of the locker. If things had gone a little differently, if I hadn’t gotten powers, that might have actually been how today went.

His expression softened. “Oh, Taylor.” He said. “Go inside, I’ll talk with the officer.”

The officer in question didn’t look like he liked that idea, but he didn’t stop me as I stepped into the house and closed the door behind me. I stayed there, listening to their conversation. I couldn’t make out the words but I could hear the general tone of their voices. After a few sentences I heard a marked difference in the officer’s tone, getting significantly softer and less confrontational.

I still didn’t know what they were actually saying, but I’d heard enough. I went upstairs and closed myself in my room before flopping onto my bed. Nothing was going my way lately. I’d fucked up my first attempt at being a hero, the Trio were just as relentless for my return, I’d lost my chance to escape through power practice thanks to Trainwreck, I missed out on my attempt at information gathering thanks to this policeman, and now he was probably getting the full sob story about the locker to get him to back off.

I buried by face in my pillow and let out a long groan. One thing, I just wanted one thing to go right! Once I ran out of breath I pushed myself back upright and tried to think. I had problems, but they needed to be separated. The bullying, the ruined day trip, those were the problems of Taylor the civilian, the victim. I couldn’t do anything about those.

But the failed heroing, the loss of my space to Trainwreck, those were the problems of Taylor the cape. I took a deep breath, trying to separate my thoughts. Cape problems were something I could deal with, a part of my life where I had the freedom to act. I _refused_ to be a victim as a cape as well as a civilian. Trainwreck was going to interfere with that? I would make him pay.

I got up and dug through my closet until I found an old composition notebook. I’d gotten it late last year after Emma had trashed my old one, which meant it was still mostly empty. I flipped past the first few pages of history notes and grabbed a pen before sitting cross-legged at the foot of my bed.

What did I know? Thanks to Trainwreck’s complaint, I knew he made camp somewhere near the area where I’d practiced, or at least kept some of his stuff there. That meant I knew where to start looking for him. But finding him and dealing with him were two different things.

Still, I had ideas about that. Trainwreck was a Tinker, relying on his suit and whatever other gadgets he had to fight. I, on the other hand, and beetleings that excelled at breaking down machinery. They weren’t hardy, but I could make five at a time and replace them if and when he smashed them.

I also had my savages. Not skilled in the breaking things department, but bigger, faster, and stronger than the beetleings. They could have their uses, whether as a distraction or as extra muscle when tearing his suit apart.

The ideas gave me a sort of grim satisfaction. I would dismantle Trainwreck and hand him over to the Protectorate, helping make up for the incident last night and avenging myself from earlier today, all in one fell swoop. No hasty decisions this time, no impromptu night’s out. I knew what I wanted to do, I knew who I was going up against. Most importantly, I had time to plan

I picked up the pen and began to write.


	9. Prowl 2.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taylor makes her move and goes after Trainwreck.

Saturday. That was as long as I waited before I made my move. A full week of forcing myself to go to school, keeping my head down and dealing with the Trio there, then going home and spending my time working on cape stuff. Trips to the library to use their internet, tailoring my costume, practicing my power, all to prepare for tonight.

Testing my power was inconvenient now. I could have gone back to the Trainyard, found some other spot to practice, but Trainwreck had spoiled that. Without knowing exactly what was considered his territory, I couldn’t go back there without worrying that he might come along and put me right back in the situation I’d been in on our first encounter. So I had to clear him out.

Maybe that wasn’t being fair to him. He’d been there first, and he could hardly claim the entirety of the Trainyard as his territory. Hell, maybe the reason I’d been able to practice there in peace was because gangsters and vagrants knew it was his turf and avoided it. Still, maybes didn’t outweigh the fact that he was a villain. Personal stakes aside, he was someone I should take down. And as a bonus, turning him over to the authorities might help serve as an apology for the whole “attacking a Ward” thing

Even better, he was my best option for my first cape fight. Almost every other villainous cape in the city had backup either in the form of more capes or a gang. There were exceptions, but none of those were really good options. Circus was a thief and general mayhem maker, with no real area of operation. Without a way to track her down or catch her in the act I couldn’t do much to deal with her. Grue was a mercenary who moved into the city last summer, but that meant when he showed up it was because someone hired him, not to mention the rumors on the forums that he’d joined up with a few other capes to form a team. He wasn’t worth the risk involved, both explicit and implicit. Purity… I wasn’t sure about Purity. Her wiki page was locked with a trio of question marks where most capes listed team allegiances, or at least hero/villain status, with a lengthy forum thread full of bickering about whether she was a member of E88, a splinter element, or an independent vigilante with old gang ties. Whatever the truth was, she had enough firepower to level a building and the mobility to do so from far out of reach from any counterattack I could make. I’d be avoiding her if I could.

Trainwreck was the perfect target. No affiliations, which meant no backup. He operated out of the Trainyard, which meant I didn’t have to worry about wrecking property or him trying to take a hostage. His armor gave me a target, something I could wreck and break to render him powerless without actually hurting him, a task my beetleings were literally made for. And all the additional research I’d done indicated that while Trainwreck was tough and strong, he wasn’t particularly fast. He wouldn’t be getting away.

In my more introspective moments, when I let myself slip into thinking about how I felt, I acknowledged that it was a little personal. Being a cape was an escape, a way to distance myself from the way I was at school, at the mercy of those stronger than me. That meeting with him had shaken that. I’d been put back in that position, where physical harm loomed but was still secondary to the more abstract threat. At school it was being ostracized and without a place to turn to, in the Trainyard it had been the potential of exposure.

I took a deep breath, let it out. I didn’t want tonight to be about that, about me. I’d looked him up, I knew what he’d done, the people he’d hurt. He was mostly guilty of theft with a lot of destruction of property to go along with it, but also quite a bit of assault and battery with some vandalism thrown in. Tonight could be about them, the people he’d wronged. It wouldn’t undo what he’d already done, but it would make sure he wouldn’t be doing more.

It was nearly midnight before I got back out of bed to pull my costume on. While the past week had given me a chance to work on it, it still wasn’t great, but it was better than it had been on the first night. I’d cut and sewed the bandanna into the hood, making it more of a cohesive mask. In the times after school before Dad got home from work I’d used the dyes I bought last weekend to recolor the whole thing. I’d had to make up the excuse of an art project to explain to Dad why I had stains on my hands and arms, but it was worth it. The hoodie and jeans were now a mottled assortment of various shades of grey and dark blue, with a little bit of the same effect on the less-absorbent material of my gloves and boots. It wasn’t much, but it was what pushed it from ‘generic clothes’ to ‘actual costume.’ A shitty, low budget costume, but still a costume.

I still hadn’t done anything with the red. I’d gotten it with the intention of making some sort of insignia, but I didn’t have any idea what that would actually look like. I hadn’t figured out a name for myself yet, so something based on that wasn’t yet an option. My beetleings and my savages were too different for any one symbol to represent them, so that was out. For now the dye sat at the back of a shelf to be decided on later.

Once I was dressed in my costume, I took a moment to try and center myself. I tried to forget the Trio and everything I’d put up with for the past week. I tried to forget Dad’s ongoing arguments with various school representatives. Those were the problems of Taylor the civilian, and right now I needed to be Taylor the cape.

Under my breath I whispered the mantra I’d begun repeating whenever I tried to make the shift to the cape mindset. “Never the victim.”

I set out from home towards the Trainyard. Riding the bus wasn’t an option given the time and my costume, so I was left to make my way on foot. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, or even would have been a week ago. Over the past week I’d started waking up at the same time as Dad so I could go for a run. Apparently those people who talk about the ‘euphoric high’ of running were making stuff up, or I just wasn’t doing it right, because it didn’t feel very great.

Still, it was both necessary and useful. My legs still ached after my runs, but I no longer had to deal with a burning in my lungs after I stopped. It had also helped break in my boots. Wearing them to school wasn’t an option, I’d be running the risk of the Trio ruining them somehow, so my morning runs were the only time I could use them. It wasn’t quite enough for them to fully be comfortable, but they fit me better than before.

At least half an hour passed by the time I actually got to the Trainyard. By then I was tired, enough that I gave myself a few minutes rest once I slipped past the first fence. It wouldn’t do to burn myself out because I refused to accept my limits. I took the time to collect my thoughts the way I couldn’t when I was focused on running, reviewing my plan.

The Trainyard was a big area to cover when looking for one person, even if that person was ten plus feet tall and wearing power armor. I knew a general location to start looking, but I had to get there first. Complicating that was the Trainyard’s piecemeal layout. If I was lucky and knew the right ways to go, I could find stretches of track that went uninterrupted for several blocks. If I didn’t, I could end up in an area where I had to circumvent five different fences just to cover as much ground as I would walking from my house to the sidewalk. Luckily, I had a solution to at least get past the obstacles.

I reached for my pool of energy. It didn’t have its full charge, but it was at more than half. If I could have, I would have been going into this with a full charge, but there was no way to work that timing. After Monday I’d learned my lesson about making sure to keep my power in check. Being prepared in case of an emergency would have been useful, but it wasn’t worth being prepared if the Trio had another shocker like the flute up their sleeves that hit me hard enough for my power to flare up.

My encounter with Trainwreck had actually given me the solution to that particular problem. Unsummoning the savage had returned half of the energy I’d used to summon it, but not all. So for the last week, every day after Dad left for work and before I went out to the bus stop, I spent a few minutes summoning and unsummoning savages until the pool of energy ran dry. It recharged part of its energy over the course of the school day, but little enough and slowly enough that it was slower to rouse into unconscious action and easier to suppress when it did flare.

Letting it charge up without using it yesterday and today wasn’t enough to fill it, but it was at least three-quarters full. In any case, it was enough. I though about the plan I’d come up with, focusing on what I’d need in order to accomplish it. My power surged to life as quickly as I’d ever felt it. A second later I was faced with two savages and three beetleings.

I had my minions, I had a plan, now I just needed to get the execution right. I sent out the beetleings, sending them scramble up over or squeeze through the chain-link fences, each heading in the same general direction but spreading out in the process. They would be my scouts, doubling back and giving certain specific hand signals depending on what they saw. With their small size and penchant for sticking to unlit and cluttered areas, I was fairly confident they’d see anyone before they were seen in turn.

Beetleings sent out I moved to follow, heading in the same general direction I knew my practice area had been. One of my savages rushed ahead of me, climbing the fence with ease. The other moved ahead as well, but didn’t climb over. Instead it dropped to one knee, lacing its fingers to provide me a step. I took it and the savage moved, standing and lifting to add force to my movement and let me cross the fence far more easily than I could have on my own.

When I landed on the other side the first savage had already positioned itself to aid me at the next fence. Behind me, the second climbed over and ran, quickly passing me and clambering over the next fence so that it would be ready to aid me with the obstacle after.

I felt a thrill of pride. Thinking up a plan was one thing, but actually carrying it out successfully was another. It felt right, a coordinated team to help and support me. Maybe not as good as actual allies might have been, but good enough. As an extra measure of pride, I hadn’t even had to speak a single order.

After all the deliberation and self-directed debate I’d gone through about whether I could actually mentally command my minions or if they just wanted similar things as me, the solution had ended up being laughably simple: I’d just tried to command a savage to raise its left hand without saying the command. And it had worked.

The connections were the key. I could focus on one or more, singling out particular minions to give particular commands. Being confined to my house for the testing, I hadn’t exactly had a lot of opportunity to test the complexity and strength of my ability to command them, but it was good enough to make them my personal fence-climbing team. I was still going to stick to spoken commands though, at least when anyone was around to see me. Being able to silently command my minions from a distance was a card I wanted to keep up my sleeve.

Still, there was more to the connections than I’d been able to properly grok. Through them I could feel my minions’ positions relative to me, which helped keep track of them and determine which I wanted to command. They were also the passageways through which I sent my commands, something I suspected and had then confirmed happened even when I was supposedly giving them commands through speech. But there was still a big part of it I couldn’t wrap my head around, what I’d taken to calling the information stream. I’d spent time trying to immerse myself in it, from beetleings and savages alike, but every time I couldn’t quite get what it was trying to tell me. I had the sense that I needed some sort of context to try and properly understand it, some factor or way of looking at it that I was missing.

These thoughts filled my head as I moved through the Trainyard. Occasionally a beetleing would return to me, but only to signal that there were vagrants ahead and guide me to avoid them. I doubted any ordinary scrap scavenger would try and fight me when I was so clearly a cape, but any commotion they caused could tip off Trainwreck to my presence.

It took another twenty minutes to reach the area where I’d been training my power before Trainwreck drove me off. I frowned under my mask at the thought. No, I didn’t like that phrasing. ‘Drove me off’ implied retreat, capitulation on my part to cede him the area, but here I was again. Forced me to withdraw, maybe.

It was even more wrecked than when I’d left. The caboose had been fully tipped over, with the parts where the wheels connected to the train car removed, and another section of the fence had been torn up. I unsummoned one of the savages and summoned a beetling in its place, perfectly consuming the energy I’d regained from the savage. The fallen fences tempted me to try and track the villain by his trail, but that didn’t feel like a good idea. The Trainyard was Trainwreck’s home turf, which meant he probably knew the ins and outs of the place. More than that, spending time here meant he had time to prepare. False trails, traps, secret paths, a dozen other possibilities that meant trying to follow his trail directly wouldn’t work.

Instead I sent my beetleings out in a spiraling pattern. It would be slow, but it was thorough. They’d find him if he was in my range. If they didn’t… I wasn’t really sure what else to do. I could keep moving and searching, but the Trainyard was a big place. Trying to search the whole thing like this would be a fool’s errand.

I was tired enough that I wanted to sit down, but the night was cold. Instead I paced, trying to do something to stay active and keep myself a little warmer. My savage stood silently by as I moved. I considered trying to cuddle it for warmth, but immediately stamped out the idea. If I was freezing to death in a blizzard, _maybe_. But unless things were that bad, I really did not want to cuddle a monster whose brain was apparently composed of little more than loyalty to me, even if it would be the pragmatic thing to do. That was a level of desperation for basic affection I was not willing to cross. Though if it was seemingly unbothered by the cold despite not wearing clothes, it was probably pretty warm…

 _Fuck_ , I was lonely.

I was fortunately distracted from my contemplation of my own loneliness when I felt a change in one of my beetleings. Through my connection to it I could feel its location, and right now it had broken its pattern of movement and was heading straight back towards me. I turned towards the direction it was coming from, bouncing a bit on the balls of my feet in anticipation. I’d only given my beetlings one criteria to return to me for: finding Trainwreck.

It was only a few minutes later that it arrived in my little clearing. I was already moving to meet it as it squeezed through a gap between two sections of fencing. The moment it was in position to do so the beetleing held its arms straight out to either side, making a ‘T’ with its body. The signal for finding Trainwreck.

A grin split my face. A quick command sent the beetling out again to lead me to him, while a second recalled my other three beetleings. This approach was quieter now, more cautious in case Trainwreck was on the lookout. I was more nervous than I’d been when I’d set out last Sunday to attack Merchants. That had been a mission of sabotage, even if I had gone wrong, but what I was doing now would deliberately start a fight, one against a parahuman no less. I couldn’t help but second guess myself, even as I continued forward.

Gradually a sound reached my ears. The clang of metal on metal, accompanied by the occasional set of heavy footsteps. It had to be Trainwreck. I could see the glow of light up ahead, from both the direction the sound seemed to be coming from and the direction my beetleing was leading me. I commanded the beetleing to stop as I looked around for a train car or building, something I could climb for a better view without getting too close.

A nearby boxcar met my needs, and with the help of my savage to boost me up I crawled up onto the roof. I moved forward on my belly, using my hands and knees to push myself forward as best I could without rising up. It was awkward and the metal roof under me was freezing even through my clothes, but it would be worth it if it meant I could get closer to Trainwreck without being noticed.

It was worth it. The boxcar was one of several in a larger open area. Train cars formed a ragged ring around a larger empty space. Some were clearly off their tracks, making it obvious someone had moved them to make this clearing. That someone was currently stomping around in the open area in the middle of the ring, moving back and forth between a blazing bonfire that had been lit in the middle and a pile of scrap metal that sat off to one side.

Just looking at it, it was clear this was Trainwreck’s home. A train car had one of its sides peeled off and reattached as a metal awning, making its interior into a crude lean-to. A cheap plastic picnic table off to one side was cluttered with wrenches, screwdrivers, and other tools, while beside that was the pile of parts Trainwreck was currently concerning himself with. He was still dressed in his armor as he worked, grabbing parts out of the pile and thrusting them into the fire for a few seconds before pulling them back out to twist or pound with his fist. It didn’t seem like the fire was hot enough to actually melt any of the metal, and he definitely wasn’t keeping them in the fire long enough to really heat up, but he seemed pleased with his progress. Several smaller piles sat beside the fire, without any rhyme or reason to their sorting, and each piece was dropped into one once he was satisfied with his work.

I wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing, but in the short term it didn’t really matter. He was distracted, and that was the important part. I tweaked the commands to my beetleings, drawing them toward me in a way that would see them skirt around this clearing and get closer without risking being spotted. Though maybe that wasn’t necessary. I watched as Trainwreck rummaged around in the pile with a clatter of metal, finally pulling out what looked like a car’s gearbox before returning to the fire, gravel crunching under every heavy footstep. If he could hear anything farther away than five feet, I’d be surprised, not to mention what the fire would be doing to how his eyes adjusted to the dark.

Still, it wouldn’t do to underestimate him. His armor looked clunky, but for all I knew it had sonar or night vision in the goggles. I relaxed when my beetlings finally approached and he gave no sign of having noticed them. Either he was excellent at hiding his reactions, or he had reasonably human senses and just didn’t notice them

But it wouldn’t do to tempt fate by waiting around so close to him. I had to take him down soon, and that meant disabling his armor. It would have been easier if I’d caught him sleeping but I could still work with this. He wouldn’t exactly stand there and let the beetleings take his armor to pieces, however fast they worked, But that was why I had the savage.

I sent my commands, moving my minions into position. The four beetleings circled around the campsite and crept closer to Trainwreck, using the flickering light of the fire and the deeper shadows cast by train cars and piles of parts to hide their approach. I watched anxiously, afraid of the moment where Trainwreck would look in the wrong place at the wrong time and spot them. But he didn’t. Maybe it was the heavy tinted welding goggles he still wore or maybe the suit’s movements muffled sound, but he didn’t notice their approach. They got closer and closer, until they were lurking within ten feet of the pile of scrap Trainwreck was using. The ambush was prepared. Now I just needed to make an opening.

Another command to the savage and it circled around to the other side of the clearing. I paused, trying to calm myself. It didn’t really help, now I was just anxious and broken off my train of though enough to really feel how cold the train car I was laying on was. I’d come all this way and tracked him down, now it was time to act.

My savage walked forward. It made a beeline for Trainwreck without even trying to hide. I’d sent it forward when Trainwreck had his back turned on its direction to pull something from his scrap heap, so by the time he turned back around and noticed it, it had already closed a good third of the distance between them.

Trainwreck started a bit when he saw the savage, the motion magnified by the suit. I could only imagine what this looked like to him. A monstrous figure approaching you in your home at night, seemingly appearing out of nowhere? I wouldn’t have turned my back on it.

It seemed Trainwreck felt the same way. He kept his gaze locked onto it as he carefully set the part he was holding down on the ground, though to his credit he recovered from his surprise quickly enough. “Who the fuck are you?” he yelled.

The savage didn’t respond. That was good. If it had spoken to a stranger after all the futile efforts I’d made to get my minions to talk to me, I would have been pissed.

It still kept walking. Only half the space of the clearing between them now. Trainwreck didn’t like that. The arm of his suit shifted and the sphere-tipped tube he’d threatened me with rose into place on his forearm. He raised his arm to point it squarely at the savage.

“I’m warning you,” Trainwreck shouted. “Don’t come closer, you little shit!”

It kept moving closer. I sent out another command to my beetleings, sending them inching forward to close in on the oblivious villain.

“Let’s talk for a second, yeah?” Trainwreck continued. “You ain’t looking too hot, pal. You remember anything, just wake up here?”

That part confused me. What was he talking about? He clearly thought the savage was a person, albeit a monstrous or deformed one. Not an unreasonable assumption given Case 53s and the whole Changer power classification. But why was he asking if it remembered anything? Nothing I’d seen mentioned Changer powers came with loss of memory. There was some stuff floating around about Case 53s that mentioned it, but there were enough theories about them that I’d have too look more into it to know anything for sure.

The savage was still moving forward. I hadn’t commanded it to stop while I thought, so it was still following my instruction to approach him. It was less than fifteen feet away from him now. Despite his threat, Trainwreck still hadn’t attacked it. Why? Was it fear? Sympathy? Could I exploit it?

I directed my savage to grab a length of rebar from the pile of scrap nearest to it. It pulled out the length of metal, hefting it like a sword. Whether it was seeing it arm itself or because it messed with his stuff, that was enough to wear out Trainwreck’s goodwill.

There was a loud, dull whump from the tube on his arm and the sphere shot out towards my savage. With the way he’d been pointing it I’d expected it to be some kind of ranged weapon, so I was already directing my savage to dodge. It threw itself to one side as the sphere shot past it, a length of chain trailing behind to connect it to the tube.

More commands. My savage rushed forward, the piece of rebar held out to swing towards Trainwreck. Trainwreck was already yanking his arm back, some mechanism within the arm of his suit whirring as it drew the chain back it. The motion and the retraction caused the sphere to fly towards my savage’s head from behind. If it had just been the savage, the trick might have caught it. But from my perspective overseeing the clearing, it was obvious to see.

A command saw the savage swaying to the side and ducking down, the sphere whizzing harmlessly past it to slot back into the tube. Only five feet separated the two now. Trainwreck eyed the savage warily. The savage shifted the rebar in its grip, flexing its fanged jaws at him. It looked like a stalemate.

But I wasn’t interested in playing fair. I sent a command to my beetleings even as I egged my savage on. The savage lunged for Trainwreck, thrusting its improvised weapon to try and catch his face with the point of it. He brought up his other arm, panels springing from the sides of his forearm to form a blocky shield. The tip of the rebar scraped across the shield with the harsh sound of metal on metal. Trainwreck was already bringing up his other arm to fire his flail gun into my savage’s gut at point blank.

The beetleings were already on him. He was probably a good ten feet tall in the armor, and the beetleings were only the size of toddlers, but they were hard to ignore. The four leapt onto his legs from behind, quickly climbing his body. Two clambered onto his back and began prying at the plating surrounding the smokestack protruding from his suit’s metal hunchback. Another climbed onto his shoulder and tried to reach into the joint where the arm of his armor met the body. The last actually climbed around onto his chest, fiddling with something just below his collar.

For his part, Trainwreck reacted the same way someone would if rats started crawling on their body. He staggered back from the savaged, shaking his body to try and dislodge them and flailing at the ones on his chest and shoulder.

“Fuck! What the fuck!? Get off’a me, you-”

The savage came in again with the rebar. He barely got his shield up in time to keep himself from getting hit across the face. I winced a bit at that, refining the command I sent to my savage. A tire iron from a beetleing would be bad to hit someone in the head, a length of rebar swung by a human-sized creature would be worse. This was meant to be a capture, not a murder. I kept a close eye on the savage anyways, prepared to immediately give it a new command if it seemed like it would do something too dangerous.

Its next hit came when Trainwreck still had his shield raised to protect his face, thus blocking his view of it. The rebar clanged into the side of his knee. There wasn’t any visible affect from the hit, but that was fine. Trainwreck cursed in frustration, lowering his shield and bringing up the arm with the flail gun.

A command immediately sent the beetling on his chest crawling higher to get in his face. He cursed again and tried to grab at it. The arm with the flail gun went wide and I seized on the advantage. I commanded my savage to duck low and close, thrusting the rebar up like a spear into the armpit of the suit. To be flexible it had to have less armor, so I was hoping it could do more damage that way. There was nothing dramatic like the arm falling limp, but there was the metallic sound of something breaking or being forced out of place.

The beetling on his face scurried away to the small of his back, leaving Trainwreck grabbing at the place it had been and uncovering his face for my savage to take a swing at him. It had to push off his knee just to jump high enough and reach his face, but the blow landed. No rebar, just a clenched three-fingered punch across the jaw. I knew my savages were stronger than me, even if I hadn’t tested it my having them punch me, so I knew that would hurt him.

Trainwreck cursed again, flailing at the savage with one arm while he took a half-step back, shielding his face once more. All the while, the beetleings worked. This was my plan. Keep him off balance, torn between two threats. If he focused on trying to get the beetleings off him, he left himself open to attack by the savage. If he focused on fighting the savage, the beetleings could work unimpeded. Whether by dismantling his armor or beating him down, I could win.

Trainwreck tried to keep the shield in front of his face while he groped at his shoulder with his other hand. I just had the beetleing lower itself down to cling to the back of his shoulder. From what I could tell, his suit was heavily armored but not flexible. His fingers scraped across the metal of his shoulder, but couldn’t reach far enough back to grab the beetleing. At the same time, I had my savage up its attack. It hammered away at his shield with its rebar, forcing Trainwreck to keep it raised to protect himself. Of course, if he moved the shield away he’d find himself perfectly safe. The order was to attack his shield, after all, giving the illusion that if he lowered his guard he’d get his head caved in without actually risking a homicide. Though if he did move it, it’d be a matter of an instant to set the savage to just punching him in the face.

Regardless of the actual threat to him, it kept him off guard and distracted from the beetleings. There were now three working at the mechanism on his back, with the fourth at the back of one shoulder. Based on what they’d done to the car, I’d expected them to have him in pieces by now. Apparently not. The occasional piece of plating of wiring fell away, but for the most part they seemed focused on just getting into his armor. From the looks of things, I wouldn’t be able to just break apart his armor.

His armor was _armor_ , after all, meant to be protective and durable. I should have expected this obstacle. And with a week to prepare, I had. The idea had occurred to me that his armor might have redundancies or booby traps, something that would make disassembling it impossible without spending hours and numerous beetleings in the effort. But apart from his unarmored face, there was one glaring weak point on his suit.

I sent the beetleings down off of him and out to grab things from the area around them. A length of PVC pipe, a chunk of rubber tire, a fistful of nails. It took them only a few seconds to grab their things and quickly make their way back to Trainwreck.

He was forcing the savage back, able to focus on the fight without the beetleings to distract him. A wide swing with his shield arm clipped the savage in the shoulder, sending it to the ground with the force of the blow. A second later I had to make it roll to the side to avoid the flail fired right where its head had been.

Trainwreck saw the beetleings coming this time and spun towards them, holding out the arm with the still-extended flail to swing at them in an arc. I was able to make most of them backpedal quickly enough to avoid getting hit, but my timing was off for one. The head of the flail hit it and it immediately collapsed back into nonexistence.

I winced. It wouldn’t be hard to summon a replacement, but with the sound and light, I was concerned about drawing his attention. I held off, biding my time until he was more distracted.

I had the savage lunge forward to bring itself around in front of Trainwreck and swing the rebar at his face again. Again Trainwreck got up his shield in time to avoid getting hit, but it served its purpose. His attempted offense against the beetleings had been interrupted. That was enough time for them to close the distance and start climbing.

This time they didn’t stop at his back or shoulders, but kept climbing up, ascending the smokestack that rose from his back. It had only been letting out a trickle of smoke when I’d first seen him, but now it was letting out a continuous plume of grey-black smoke. And it was into this opening that the beetleings threw their cargo.

I didn’t know about how engines or cars worked, but a smokestack was a simple enough concept to grasp. A normal one anyways. His suit was Tinker made, so I doubted it actually ran on coal or gasoline. But that smokestack was there for a reason, whether it was to vent exhaust, heat, or something else. And if I blocked it, clogged it with random debris, that could screw up the whole mechanism.

Trainwreck seemed to know it too. “No no no, fuck you, no!”

He tried to reach up and grab the beetleings but they were already racing back down his body to grab more things. I judged him as sufficiently distracted enough and called up my power. Not a replacement beetleing, but another savage. One wasn’t enough to keep him distracted anymore when the beetleings had to keep climbing on and off of him.

The sound of my summoning seemed deafeningly loud to me as a savage formed on the ground beside the train, just under me. It might not have been quite that loud, but it was enough to catch Trainwreck’s attention. He whirled in my direction just in time to see a second savage sprinting towards him. It slowed in its dash on my command, just in time to snatch a sledgehammer from his table of tools, then it was on him.

“Two of you fucks?”Trainwreck yelled.

He fired the flail gun at the hammer wielding savage as it engaged him. I had it dodge to the side, while simultaneously commanding the other savage to step up and thrust its rebar into the tube of the flail gun. It lodged and the savage stepped away without a weapon. Trainwreck tried to retract the chain, but all he got was a clunking noise. I took the opportunity to have the hammer savage step up and swing the hammer at his chin.

Trainwreck managed to make a clumsy hop back, which only brought him closer to the three beetleings that had been approaching him while he was distracted. Trainwreck shook his body, trying to dislodge them, but they kept climbing to dump another load of debris down his smokestack.

I sent the hammer savage in for another attack. He blocked this one with the shield this time, giving the other savage time to grab another piece of rebar. The smoke was coming out of the smokestack in puffs and patches now, but he didn’t seem to be affected. No matter. I had time to wear him down.

I felt a thrill as I coordinated the assault. Watching from a distance, picking off weaknesses, coordinating strengths. This was the kind of thing I’d planned to do for the strike on the Merchants, but successful.

Watching Trainwreck, I got a sense of his movements. His suit had power to it, but it was jerky in its motions. There were openings, gaps where he couldn’t quite swing a fist or times where he couldn’t stomp quickly enough. Those were opportunities to attack. The savage with the hammer seemed more at ease with its weapon than the one with the rebar and its tool carried more crushing weight, so that was the one for riskier plays. A strike to hit the raised metal collar around his head, threatening but not really dangerous. A blow to strike a finger from the side and bend it out of place. The other had the advantage of reach with the rebar, as well as the ability to thrust with the point. That one was sent after joints, gaps in armor, targets a blunt instrument couldn’t hit. Their attacks didn’t do much, but the little dents and scrapes were still a annoyance to him, something to throw him off his game or impair his reaction by a crucial fraction of a second.

Trainwreck was fighting back, but his flail gun had been broken, leaving him with a fifteen-foot chain and a weight at the end. He’d tried to swing it like a flail a few times, but with the unwieldly length it was all but useless against the savages at close quarters.

And all the while, my beetleings worked. Trainwreck tried stomping on them, throwing things at them, moving away, but my savages made him pay for his distraction each time. Scrap metal, rubber, wood, plastic, and anything else I saw was sent down the smokestack. After the first few rounds, one or two beetleings each time was sent back with fistfuls of sand or gravel to make sure the gaps in the blockage would be stuffed tight.

It was working. Minute after minute the fight dragged on. Trainwreck wasn’t able to kill any more of my minions, but my savages weren’t able to strike any decisive blows either, leaving them in a stalemate as the beetleings dumped more and more into the smokestack. The column of smoke slowed to puffs, then to the occasional burst, and eventually to a few pencil thin streams. Trainwreck was clearly suffering for it. By the time only a few thin lines of smoke came from the smokestack, he was moving like he was underwater.

His face looked pained as he swung at a savage, only for it to step back easily and avoid the hit. Trainwreck wasn’t so lucky. His suit seized up halfway through the motion and he toppled forward, falling to one knee. Things hissed and creaked in his legs but he didn’t, or couldn’t, rise.

“Fuck!” he yelled. Yeah, he definitely sounded in pain.

The thought crossed my mind that if the smokestack was to vent heat and I’d just blocked it off, I might have been cooking him in his own armor. I shook the thought off. I didn’t like that I might have been forcing him into that position to get a win, but I couldn’t take it back now. And even if I’d thought of it before, I still probably would have done the same thing. Beating someone to the point where you could arrest them wouldn’t be much better, but that was the reality of fighting villains. I’d have to accept it sooner or later if this was the job I wanted to do.

Besides, he’d chosen to stay and fight. Maybe he was being territorial or maybe he just didn’t think he was fast enough to get away, but he could have tried.

Trainwreck tried to rise again, failed again. He yelled a string of words in a language I didn’t know. Still, the tone made their meaning clear. He was beaten, and none too happy about it. Now I just had to pry him out of his armor. With time to work, it probably wouldn’t take the beetleings too long. After that, I could order a savage to drag him to the edge of the Trainyard where I could call the cops and have him picked up.

I ordered my beetleings forward to start disassembling the armor around him when his chest plate exploded. A cloud of smoke billowed out as the plate was blasted free, bouncing off the ground and slamming into a savage hard enough to send it to the ground with the sound of cracking bone. In the midst of it, Trainwreck tumbled free from his armor.

It was hard to see in the midst of the smoke, but he seemed… off. Then he began to move and the reason became clear. It was his head, but poking out of a fridge-sized metal cocoon. Legs telescoped out of the bottom, with wheels where there should be feet and another set of wheels built into the knee joints. Arms unfolded, little more than long struts of metal with a few joints, ending in simple metal pincers with another small wheel set where the two ‘fingers’ met.

I swore under my breath. The bastard has a backup suit built into his main one. I reached out to my beetleings and savages alike and commanded them to attack.

Trainwreck moved forward with rolling steps as all the pieces of his suit extended and slotted into place. He leaned and the movement caused him to slide rapidly to the side, dodging between the savages and beetleings and putting a good ten feet of distance between them. The movement unbalanced him and he had to put out one long arm to catch himself, dropping to one knee in the process. The plates of the main body shifted and rearranged, becoming something more like a wedge, more aerodynamic.

My minions kept following my command and moved after him. He glanced at them, and without moving from his position, shot forward. If he hadn’t run because he wasn’t fast enough before, that definitely wasn’t the case now. He was out of the edge of the clearing in a second and kept going.

As he left, I heard him yell something back at me. Well, back at my minions, but by proxy at me. Again it was that other language, but again I didn’t need to know the exact translation to understand what he was saying.

I swore again and hauled myself up, ordering my savages to come help me down. After everything I’d done so far, after how close I’d come, there was no way I was going to let him get away. Sending my beetleings out ahead of me again, I gave chase.


	10. Prowl 2.4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taylor chases Trainwreck and meets someone new.

It was only a few minutes later that I realized a chase was futile. Trainwreck’s path wasn’t particularly hard to follow even in the dark thanks to the number of toppled fences and smashed-down barricades he left in his wake, but I was on foot while Trainwreck was effectively in a vehicle. I might as well try to chase a car.

I slowed to a walk as I continued after him. I could see a few people approaching the path Trainwreck had left, no doubt squatters and scavengers who had been alerted by his passage and were coming to check it out. I ignored them as I kept walking, my three beetleings scuttling around me. Maybe not the smartest move to broadcast that I was a cape, but it beat getting jumped by some thugs who would see a lone girl at night as an easy target.

It had the desired effect, as some of the approaching people visibly shied back when they noticed my minions. Some of the people broke off into murmured discussion, others watched me cautiously. I couldn’t help but feel a little excited by that. Sure, it wasn’t awe or admiration, but it was still a level of respect being paid to me, or at least to the potential danger my power posed, that I wasn’t used to receiving. And all I was doing was walking.

I thought as I walked, trying not to let the attention distract me. I wasn’t going to be able to beat Trainwreck’s speed, so I needed another angle. The first plan that came to mind was to return to his camp and set up an ambush for when he returned, but I saw holes in it as soon as I thought of it. If he did return he’d be on guard for just such a situation, or he might just write the camp off as a loss and set up somewhere else. More pressingly, I had a time constraint. He apparently lived out here, whereas I needed to get back home before Dad woke up in the morning. Lying in wait wouldn’t work so well if I had to leave just a few hours in.

So an ambush was off the table. Plan B was to try and cut him off at his end destination. That was almost as bad, but for different reasons. For starters, if his destination was just in a straight line away from his camp, I ran into the same problem as trying to chase him. When or if I ever caught up to him, he could just keep moving and start this whole thing all over again. And again, I ran into the time problem. If the chase dragged on too long I’d just have to abandon it and go home.

I turned my mind to the connections to my savages. They had pulled ahead of me and the beetleings in the chase, still following the order to pursue Trainwreck. I tried to use the connections to get a sense of their location relative to me, but it didn’t help much. I could tell they were a ways in front of me, but it didn’t help me figure out whether or not Trainwreck’s path was curving towards some destination I could beeline towards. From what I could see of his path the savages were still directly ahead of me though, which indicated a more-or-less straight route.

I slowed to a stop as my mind churned in frustration. Chasing wouldn’t work, and ambush wouldn’t work, cutting him off at his destination was apparently the same think as a chase, or else something I didn’t have the time to figure out. I tried to work out the timing in my head. I’d left home at about midnight, then spent the greater part of an hour getting to the Trainyard. I’d have to account for at least that much time to get back home, probably more because I was tiring myself. Six o’clock was what I estimated my deadline to be. Dad slept in on weekends, but daily routines were hard to break, and if he was like me he’d still wake up at the usual time of his alarm clock. He might not actually get up, but he’d be awake enough to notice if he heard me coming in. I could maybe excuse it as an early run, but only if he didn’t actually poke his head out of his room and see me, and I didn’t want to rely on luck. With the time I’d spent hunting down Trainwreck in the first place and then the time the fight had taken, I gave myself a window of about two hours to find him again, subdue him, and call the Protectorate to collect him.

Instead of groaning, I channeled my frustration by having one of my beetlings kick a can. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. No scavengers around anymore, at least none that I could see. Trainwreck’s path had strayed closer to the border of the Trainyard and I could see an actual street a few fences away. The idea of calling it a night was tempting. I could just hop those fences, go home, and come back to hunt down Trainwreck another day. But as enticing as it was, the idea still felt sour. I wanted to do this clean, get it done in one night. And I’d come close, so close that it would have been over if he hadn’t had the escape suit to fall back on. Leaving it like this, even if I came back another night, even if I came back tomorrow, it would feel like running from the Merchants all over again. Another failed outing, another failed attempt to be a hero.

Plus there was the logistical problem. I’d been able to find him this time because I knew where to start. If I left and gave him time to recover, I’d have to search the whole Trainyard to find him again. And on top of that, he was a Tinker. He’d have time to rebuild, shore up the weaknesses I’d used this time and prepare to fight against me.

No, leaving tonight without capturing him wasn’t an option, at least not one I was willing to accept right now. But I still didn’t have any feasible way to catch up to him. Calling the Protectorate without capturing Trainwreck first would defeat the purpose, but maybe if I tried to recruit some of the scavengers…

“Nice night for a walk.” A voice cut off my train of thought. “You mind if I join you?”

I spun towards the sound of the voice, commanding my beetleings to move between me and them. The speaker was a girl about my age, maybe a bit older. Her dark blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders and she wore an unzipped jacket that gave me a good look at the costume she was wearing underneath. It looked like a skintight bodysuit, mostly black with some parts in dark blue or purple, the lack of light making it hard to discern the specific colors or designs. The look was capped off with a domino mask and a wide grin, and she held what looked like a shopping bag in one hand, and she definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds earlier when I was looking around.

I didn’t recognize her from my research, either as a hero, a villain, or a rogue, which meant she was either as new to this as I was or she’d moved into Brockton from somewhere else. And with a costume as put-together as the one she was wearing, even with the addition of a winter coat over it to disrupt the look, I doubted she was new. 

“Who are you?” I asked warily. Without giving any outside indication I seized on my connections to my savages, preparing to dismiss them and form a new set next to me at a moment’s notice. I looked around again, but no one else had mysteriously appeared with her.

“I’m Tattletale,” she introduced herself cheerily, “And this is normally the point where I’d show off by knowing your name already, but you kind of threw a wrench in that by not having a name for yourself yet. You should really get on that soon, otherwise the PRT will pick something for you.”

That made me bristle a bit, less at the idea of someone else picking my cape name and more at the fact that she knew I didn’t have a name for myself.  Though I supposed this was only my second time out and I was hardly doing anything to announce myself, it wasn’t a hard conclusion to draw. Still, something about it rubbed me the wrong way.

“And before you can ask,” she continued, “I’m here because, well, I’m interested in you.”

That definitely got my attention. Between tonight and my first night out, I hadn’t really done much to warrant interest, much less effectively find me. But if she not only knew about me, but managed to track me down…

“Are you a hero or a villain?” I asked bluntly. No point in dancing around the subject.

Tattletale grinned a bit wider at the question. “Who’s to say? Give me a few minutes on a computer, and I can find you a dozen different definitions for both of those words, ranging from dictionary to philosophical.”

“You’re a villain, then.” I said dryly.

She gave a mock gasp of offense and put a hand to her chest, but she was still smiling. “A villain? Me? Whyever would you say that?”

“Only a villain would answer that question like that.” I said.

Tattletale laughed and inclined her head. “Well, you’re not wrong. Guilty as charged.”

That was enough for me. If she took the time to track me down on only my second night out, whatever interest she had in me definitely wasn’t good for me. My savages were getting near the edge of my range, so I dismissed them and prepared to summon new ones.

Tattletale held up a hand before I could. “But before you go all gung-ho ‘beat up the villain with extreme prejudice’ like a certain other vigilante I could name, I’m not here to fight. I actually come bearing gifts.”

She held up the bag with her other hand and shook it in my direction. I didn’t approach to take it. “You’re a villain.” I said. “Why should I trust anything you offer me? For that matter, why shouldn’t I just take you down now and hand you over to the Protectorate?”

Tattletale laughed and waggled a finger at me. “To answer the second question first, because you’re not stupid. You don’t know who I am, you don’t know what my powers are, and you don’t know if I’m alone.”

I looked around again. I’d been certain no one else was here with her, but I’d been certain no one was around before she showed up. Still no sign of anyone else, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

Tattletale kept talking without acknowledging my reaction to her words. “You could try and attack me, but then you’d be running the risk of starting a fight with someone who has a death touch or a high-tier Brute package. Sure you can make assumptions about my power based on my name, but that’s not enough for you to be _certain_ , and you’re a cautious person. This is only your second outing and you’ve had your powers for, what, half a month? Less?”

If her comment about my lack of a name had rubbed me the wrong way, that one definitely put me on edge. Her guess about how long I had my powers was uncomfortably accurate. Between that and knowing I didn’t have a name for myself, as well as the implication that if I did have a name she would have known it, plus her name, it gave me the impression of some sort of Thinker power. Either that or…

“Have you been spying on me?” I asked tersely.  I drew on my energy and summoned a savage, the sound of its appearance and the sudden presence of a vicious-looking figure at my back lending weight to the question.

Tattletale’s smile didn’t falter as she waved a hand. “No, nothing like that. Spying on you would risk becoming a major breach of the unwritten rules, not to mention beneath me. I’m just good at figuring things out, and you’re not that hard to get a read on. Which is why I know you’re not confident enough in your power to attack someone you don’t really know anything about.”

I almost wanted to attack her just to prove her wrong. Problem was, she was right. Taking on Trainwreck was already a risk, but that was a fight I felt compelled to seek out and thought I’d planned enough for to be worth the risk. Attacking a villain with unknown powers was more of a risk than I was willing to take.

I tried to ignore the fact that she hadn’t attacked me. Even if she wasn’t hostile to me, she was still a villain and a criminal. The bare minimum of decency was not attacking people without cause, I didn’t want to think about that like it was some good deed she’d done.

I fought the urge to cross my arms and glare at her. Tattletale was being way too smug about this for my tastes. The way she was acting like she was untouchable, almost gloating about how I wouldn’t do anything… I forced down the part of my mind that started drawing comparisons. Even if it was just in my head, I didn’t want to start linking my cape and my civilian life.

Maybe she noticed I wasn’t too happy with her because Tattletale dropped the grin. “And as for question one,” she said, “That comes back around to my interest in you. And no, it’s not the ‘supervillain looking to crush the up-and-coming hero’ type of interest.”

She was already back up to a smirk. I didn’t have much faith that she’d be able to keep the grin down for much longer as she kept talking. “Right now you’re a parahuman without an allegiance, and that makes you the most valuable commodity in the Bay. So I’m doing what any smart person would do: trying to make a good first impression.”

She gestured at the bag again. I still didn’t move to take it. “You’re awfully confident I’m on my own.”  I retorted. “How do you know I’m not working with anyone?” It was mainly just stubbornness that was driving me to argue with her, but I really didn’t want her to steamroll over me without any objection.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Look, honey, I’m not stupid.” She started counting off on her fingers. “You’re not Asian, so the ABB’s right off the table. The Empire’s not too strict about its hiring policy, so if you wanted to join them you’d already be goose-stepping around in their colors. You’re not drunk or high, so you’re not a Merchant, you’re not dressed like a video game character, so you’re not working with the geek squad, and Coil doesn’t hire capes.”

I counted off in my head, trying to remember any other groups in the city. “I could still be a Ward, or part of Faultine’s crew.”

Tattletale shook her head, grin back in full force. “Nope. Ward’s haven’t done a press release about any new members, plus we’re way outside of their usual patrol area. And I pulled some strings and called in favors just to make sure I got to meet you before Faultline could, so I _know_ you’re not with her.”

There was an emphasis on Faultline’s name that made me think there wasn’t much love lost between the two of them. Still, it wasn’t enough to distract me from how Tattletale was grating on me the longer this conversation went on. She wasn’t even trying to be mean, but her sheer smugness was abrasive.

She sighed and forced the grin down again. “Look, you don’t trust me, I get it. Villain shows up out of nowhere offering gifts, I’d be more surprised if you accepted it with open arms.” She winced a bit. “And I’ve been showing off more than reassuring, which probably isn’t helping. Look…”

Apparently having decided I wasn’t going to take the bag she reached into it and started pulling things out to lay down on the ground. The first thing out was a jacket, the heavy kind made for people who want to be outdoorsy in the winter.

“Winter coat. Figured you might want something to keep you warmer than what you have now. It’s waterproof, so dying it might be tricky, but I’m sure you can get it to match the rest of your getup.”

I didn’t move closer but I gestured to one of my beetleings to move forward and bring it to be. I grabbed the coat out of its hands and examined it. It was definitely nice, certainly warmer than what I had on now. The running I’d been doing and the layers I was wearing had mostly kept me warm, but I’d been standing still long enough that now the cold was starting to creep back in. And it did seem like a nice jacket, plenty of pockets to carry things in and tougher fabric than my hoodie.

As I was turning it over, something caught my eye. The price tag was still attached to the collar. I read the figure and my eyes widened a bit. Even if I hadn’t spent any of my savings on dye, goggles, and other tools, I wouldn’t have been able to afford this. And she was just giving it to me?

She pulled a phone out of the bag, then a folded piece of paper before tossing the now empty bag to the side and placing the items on the ground, weighing down the paper with the phone. “Phone. Figured you didn’t have one of your own, or at least didn’t want to risk it getting linked to your cape work. I’d recommend burner phones, but I don’t exactly have a dozen SIM cards to spare right now, so you’ll have to settle for some encryption. It’ll hide the number on calls and interfere with tracing, but I still wouldn’t recommend calling the same number too often.

“The paper has numbers. Protectorate, PRT, even New Wave. They’re saved to the phone already, but in case you want them for another phone. Plus there’s a number for a taxi service.” Her smile seemed knowing now. “Walking to places is fine and all, but sometimes a ride is better. I speak from experience when I say that if you take off the mask and zip up a coat over the costume, no driver’s going to look closely at the rest of your outfit, whether it’s camo jeans or…” she gestured wordlessly to her own costume.

This really seemed too good to be true. She mentioned pulling strings to meet me before Faultline could, which at least explained how she’d found me, but that still didn’t explain the why. Making a good first impression only worked as an excuse so far, and it didn’t cover seeking someone out after their first and previously only outing involved mauling someone. She had an angle, I just had to figure out what it was.

“Is this supposed to be a bribe?” I asked, “Something to make me turn a blind eye to you in the future, or to make me owe you one?”

“Not really.” Tattletale shrugged, still not dropping the grin. “I don’t expect it’ll count _that_ much in my favor, but I can’t deny I’d be happy if it gave you cause to go easy on me or at least give me a chance to surrender first if you come after me. But what it’s supposed to be is part one.”

I wasn’t proud of how much that piqued my interest. The stuff here was already rather enticing, and the idea of more was intriguing. I almost had to scold myself. Gifts from supervillains was right up there with candy from strangers and drugs on the list of things not to take, but I was already certain I was going to keep these. Accepting more from her probably wouldn’t be better, but if I was going to accept her gifts I might as well take everything she was willing to give me.

“Part two is this.” Tattletale said as she turned and pointed into the Trainyard in a direction parallel to the road. “You can find Trainwreck by heading about seven minutes that way until you’re by where Manson Street meets Hayden Avenue, then head deeper into the Trainyard for about two minutes.”

I stared in the direction she was pointing, then back at her. “How do you-”

“Trainwreck headed straight away from you for a while to shake you off,” Tattletale interrupted, “He keeps a cache of spare parts in that area, so once he was safely away he doubled back to try and repair his armor.”

Either she was lying about being above spying or she definitely had a Thinker power. Or both, which wasn’t a great possibility. Whichever one, I didn’t like the idea that she could potentially turn that focus on me.

“I still don’t get what you get out of this.” I said, trying to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

Tattletale shrugged again. “Like I said, good first impression. I brought presents, offered you help for your goal, pretty much hit all the points of a neighborly greeting for capes.”

It all came back to the gifts. Was she trying to use me to get rid of her competition? No, she could have tried to direct me towards him without risking herself in a conversation. Was she trying to support me as an independent hero? That seemed even less likely, but I could see the reasoning to it. One independent would be easier to deal with than another Ward who could call for backup. But that hit the same flaw, she could have given me the gifts without revealing herself. They probably would have been better received if I thought they were coming from an anonymous benefactor, but instead she wanted me to know she was giving them to me. She wanted to be associated with the gifts and the information.

It clicked. “You want me to like you.”

She laughed. “Well, yeah. That’s sort of what good first impressions are for.”

I shook my head. “No. The gifts, the help, it’s to make a good impression, but that’s a means rather than an end. You want me to like you because you want me to join you.”

There was a moment of crucial silence where she didn’t deny it.

Tattletale sighed. “Look, there’s not a lot of ways this conversation can go from here. You protest you won’t be corrupted and how my evil schemes won’t work, I say that’s not what I’m trying to do or I argue back or whatever, so I’m just going to duck out now before this becomes an argument. It was nice meeting you though.”

She turned her back on me and started to walk away. Again I had the impulse to set my savage on her, just to prove her wrong and show that her smug certainly was unfounded. But again, common sense prevailed. I could still have said something to her, tried to get her to stay and answer to the accusation, but she was right. Again. That conversation couldn’t go anywhere except an argument.

So instead I watched her go until she was out of sight, slipping past the last fence onto the proper road and walking away without looking back. No one else stepped out of hiding to reveal her secret backup, leaving me alone with my minions. I had my beetleing find the can again and kick it repeatedly. I was more than a little angry. One night out, one mistake, and already I was being headhunted by local villains. I had to admit, at least to myself, that it would be sensible to try and recruit any new capes that popped up, but that didn’t make it any less insulting that she thought I’d join her and be a villain.

Worse, I could see why I could make a good villain. My savages and beetleings looked pretty monstrous, and neither sabotage nor mauling people with claws and fangs were very heroic. Still, I couldn’t let that stop me. I knew from the start that I’d be facing problems with a power so poorly suited for the typical flashy heroics, and after my first outing I knew I’d be facing some trouble overcoming the reputation I’d surely earned after mauling Aegis. This was just one more obstacle I’d have to get past to be a hero.

I bent down to grab the phone and paper, only for something else to fall out from under it. It was a couple of bills totaling about twenty dollars. I had a nagging suspicion that if I used the taxi service she mentioned I’d find it to be the perfect amount to take me to the general area of my house. I hadn’t even seen her slip it under the paper.

It was yet another reason to dislike the know-it-all. Still, I wasn’t going to let pride trump practicality in this case. I pocketed the phone, paper, and money before making my way to follow her directions to Trainwreck.

The short walk gave me time to think. Could I trust her? Oddly enough my gut said yes, at least in this case. I was certain she wanted me to join her, which actually made her gifts more trustworthy. If she tried something like planting a bug or tracking my calls she’d run the risk of me finding out and souring that relationship, and she wasn’t stupid. Plus her mention of the unwritten rules came with enough sincerity that I believed she’d at least avoid digging into my civilian life.

As for whether I could trust her beyond that… It was a problem to figure out later. The walk went by faster than I thought it would before I was where I needed to be. The shouting was the first hint I was in the right place.

I tried to crouch as I snuck closer, my minions doing the same. I could definitely hear more than one voice coming from up ahead. Had Trainwreck run across other scavengers when he came to retrieve his stuff? Had heroes been alerted to him and come to bring him in?

I peeked around the corner of an old brick shed. The area was larger than any of the others I’d been in here, the size of a full parking lot. It was scattered with rusty old cars in various states of dismantling, from almost fully intact to little more than the bare frame. I could see Trainwreck by one that had been tipped onto its side with a rectangular piece removed from the undercarriage. There was a bulkier attachment on one of the thin arms of the suit, with more parts scattered on the ground around him. And across the lot from him engaging him in a shouting match was…

My heart sank. This wasn’t the worst-case scenario, but it was close. If it had been scavengers, they would have been easy to drive away. If it had been heroes, I would have been willing to take a loss if it meant Trainwreck was taken off the streets anyways. But instead it _had_ to be another villain.

I recognized her too. Squealer, the Merchant’s vehicle builder, getaway driver, and all-around pain for anyone trying to catch her. She was standing atop what I assumed was a vehicle of some kind. It was shaped like a ring lying flat on the ground, except the side facing down had various tires on elevated suspension that put its height somewhere around a normal car’s roof. How the hell the thing could drive I had no idea, from what I could see all it could do was spin in place. Still, she was a Tinker and a vehicle expert, so I had to assume the thing could function.

Both of them were locked in a shouting match, so I was pretty sure neither of them had noticed me. I tried to listen to what they were saying, hoping to figure out the best way to approach this.

“Bullshit!” Trainwreck was saying. “This is my stuff, I’ve had it here for months. You can fuck right off!”

Squealer laughed. “But it’s on Merchant turf, shit-for-brains! That’s means it’s ours, no ifs, ands, or asses!”

Trainwreck growled, drawing himself up to his full ten foot height. “I don’t give a rat’s moldy ass about your turf! It’s mine and I’m taking it, end of story!”

Squealer grinned at him. She didn’t do anything I could see, but suddenly the machine under her roared to life as multiple engines kicked on. “Oh yeah? And what if I stop you, you pimple-faced dickwad?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” Trainwreck sneered. “Shouldn’t be hard, seeing as you’re nothing but a giant cunt!”

Squealer laughed again. “Please, I shack up with Skidmark! That dirty talk ain’t doing nothing but making me horny. You wanna learn to insult someone, listen up, because you can-”

I tuned her out as she started on a profanity ridden tirade. At least I thought it was profanity, I was pretty sure she made up half the words herself. On one hand, I was not prepared to fight two villains at once. And as a Tinker, Squealer was in that obnoxious category of being very hard to plan for. Just like Trainwreck and his backup suit, she could have any number of tricks packed into that wheel ring of hers.

On the other, this was pretty much as good as this situation could have gone. They were both Tinkers, so all I had to do was get my beetleings to break their stuff. In Squealer’s case, I might even be able to bypass that and just have a savage take her down directly.

I considered my options. If I engaged them I could possibly bring down one or even both of them. That would be sure to make a good apology present for the Protectorate. But it also posed the risk of me getting attacked by two villains at once. My other option was retreat. Go home, call it a night, tell myself it’d go better next time.

I barely needed to think about it. Running now wasn’t an option. On top of every argument I’d had earlier for why I needed to keep going after Trainwreck, now it was a turning point. If I bailed this time just because the situation was more than I’d been expecting, I could do it the next time things went poorly, or the time after that, or the time after that. I’d always have it looming over my head that if things were bad I could always just cut and run because I’d done it before. I could ignore it, but it’d always be there. And if that came during a situation where I couldn’t afford to run, other people could pay for it.

No, if I wanted to be a hero, or even just respect myself down the road, I couldn’t retreat now. I reached out to my beetleings and gave them their orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was surprisingly fun writing the argument between Trainwreck and Squealer.


	11. Prowl 2.5

I didn’t send my minions directly after the villains. Distracted as they were, they’d still notice a head-on attack, and that wasn’t a fight I could win. The distraction and sneak attack had worked on Trainwreck last time, but he’d be wise to it now. But he clearly wasn’t allied with Squealer. If I threw the distraction at him while actually targeting her, I’d have a chance of quickly taking down at least one of them.

But that depended on what I had to work with. At my disposal I had a savage and three beetleings, but I was close enough to be worried that summoning a fifth minion would alert them by the sound. So I’d work with this for now until I was ready to make my move. The savage’s weapons had proved crucial last time, so I sent my beetleing out to scout for suitable items or tools they could wield.

As they scavenged, I could hear the argument between Trainwreck and Squealer getting louder and more pointed. At this rate, I wasn’t certain that they wouldn’t just attack each other before I made my move. Though thinking about it, that might actually have been a good thing. It would certainly be easier to come in at the end of their fight and take down one weakened villain rather than fighting both of them.

But that felt kind of scummy. Sure, my whole plan was to beat up one or both of them, but attacking an already weakened opponent felt like cheating. A hero wouldn’t do that, right? Or was the end result more important than the steps taken to achieve it…

I shook my head. I didn’t have time for a philosophy debate with myself, I just needed to decide. My beetleings were already returning with their salvage, crawling low to the ground to avoid attention. One had a foot-long length of pipe, another had a jagged piece of metal that looked like it had been torn from a car frame, and the last had a length of chain.

I took stock while listening to the argument with one ear. By now it had regressed into nothing but insults. They sounded on the verge of coming to blows, so if I wanted to do something, I had to choose now. Idealism or pragmatism, immediate action or preying on the weak?

The decision was surprisingly easy to make. Trainwreck had been enough trouble on his own, I didn’t want to get in a fight with two villains at once. Besides, I had basically attacked Trainwreck in his home. I wasn’t about to feel bad about it, it wasn’t like cops never arrested anyone just because they were in their house, but it still made it a bit too late to start claiming the moral high ground.

Getting two villains in jail and off the streets was the important part. How I did it, short of crossing lines that would get me labelled as a villain, wasn’t important.

I settled down and prepared to wait when the argument was suddenly interrupted by some noises that were definitely not more cursing. The roar of an engine, the rattle of some mechanism starting to life, and a loud bang was all the warning I got before a much louder crash. I was nearly thrown to the ground as dust filled the air, the bandanna over my face thankfully filtering it enough that I wasn’t sent into a coughing fit.

Trainwreck lay in front of me, groaning and trying to right himself. I froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he was supposed to be with…

My gaze was drawn to the side. The corner of the brick shed I was hiding behind had been smashed apart, presumably by the impromptu projectile of Trainwreck. I could hear the roar of multiple engines as Squealer approached from the other side of the shed, cackling like a maniac.

But she was a secondary problem. The main issue was Trainwreck, whose was now on the same side of the shed as me and with a clear view of my minions. I could practically pinpoint the moment he glimpsed them as he struggled to rise. Even through a mechanical suit, he managed to stiffen.

I couldn’t tell if he saw me, or just my minions. I also couldn’t afford to care. The option of sitting this out had been taken from me, and I needed to act or I’d lose the initiative in this budding fight too.

I sent my savage lunging forward, snatching the chain from my beetleing’s hands. Trainwreck’s limbs were long, and that had the most reach out of the various retrieved implements. Maybe it wouldn’t do much against the metal plating, but if I could tangle the limbs, it seemed spindly enough that it might not be strong enough to break free.

I heard Squealer let out a surprised curse as the savage moved out from behind the shed into her view, followed by the three beetleings. I tried not to pay her any mind, crouching down and flattening myself against the shed. If I was lucky, the dust from the shed and the distraction of my minions meant Trainwreck hadn’t noticed me. If he had, things would definitely be bad, but I could do without Squealer seeing me too.

Trainwreck’s ungainly limbs couldn’t get him upright before my minions got to him. He seemed to realize this and thrust out the arm with the extra attachment. It had expanded since I’d first glimpsed it, but only as it spun to life did I realize what I was looking at.

It was something like a helicopter rotor crossed with machetes, a whirling set of blades arranged in a crude buzzsaw. He held it out like a shield and I only just managed to command my savage to stop before it ran headlong into it. I had my minions back off and spread out to try and circle around him as he finally managed to push himself up.

Trainwreck looked from the savage and beetleings to the direction I knew Squealer to be in, waving his saw around at my minions like someone would use a torch to ward off wolves. “Damn it, Squealer!” he yelled. “Are these your fucking freaks?”

Unwittingly, he soothed my nerves. He hadn’t spotted me after all. In that moment, I was more thankful for making my costume camouflage than I had ever been before.

“Not mine.” Squealer said in a confused voice before shifting to a mocking tone. “What’s the matter? Itty bitty Trainwreck can’t handle some itty bitty monsters?”

“Fuck off!” Trainwreck yelled, thrusting the saw at a beetleing I’d been about to send at him. “If they ain’t yours, there’s someone else here!”

“Hmmm.” Squealer made an exaggerated thinking noise, loud enough to be heard over the engines and saw. “Nah.”

Trainwreck’s acne-scarred face flushed with anger. “The fuck you mean-” I sent some of my minions at him before he could finish, forcing him to slide to the side to avoid a beetleing while also swinging the saw to ward off the savage. I didn’t want him cluing Squealer in to my presence, and I certainly wasn’t above taking advantage of his distraction in the conversation.

“I mean nah, I don’t really give a shit.” Squealer said. “I don’t give a shit about you, and I don’t give half a shit about any other two-bit fuckface who feels like picking a fight. As far as I care, you two can beat the shit out of each other and I’ll make roadkill out of whoever’s left if they aren’t smart enough to get the fuck out of here.”

Trainwreck’s face twisted with anger and he lunged towards Squealer, the wheels in his feet letting him shoot forward. “You bi-”

 I heard the loud bang again. Loose bricks were torn free from the damaged side of the shed as some force ripped outward from Squealer, or more likely her vehicle, and sent Trainwreck crashing to the ground once more. The spinning blades on his arm sparked and shrieked as the mechanism was slammed into the ground, sending loose dirt and gravel spraying into the air.

Squealer’s laughter was nearly drowned out by the roar of her vehicle’s engine before both began to fade. It sounded like she was making good on her promise and bailing on the whole fight. Once more I was faced with a choice. If I let her go now, I be faced with the same situation now as I had when Trainwreck ran. Chasing her would probably be futile, which meant either hoping she would actually come back and I could ambush her or letting her go and counting it as a loss.

I was already moving my minions in as I considered it. I had my savage throw its chain into the whirling blades on Trainwreck’s arm, which had slowed as he tried to get back up with such an unwieldy attachment that basically made the limb useless. The chain was caught on and spun with the rotor, sending sparks off of Trainwreck’s body as it struck him on each rotation. He held the offending arm as far away from himself as he could to keep the chain from hitting his exposed face, making his attempt to get back up even harder and in turn making him more vulnerable to the beetleings I was setting on him.

The thought of letting Squealer get away pissed me off more than it had when it applied to Trainwreck. Trainwreck was a violent thief, but he was on his own. Squealer might not have been as directly criminal, but she was connected to the Merchants. I’d chosen them for a reason on my first night, besides the relative safety to be found in targeting them over the ABB or E88. They were the primary drug producer and distributer in the city. I’d seen firsthand what happened to kids who got caught up with that, the ones at Winslow whose habits had brought them so low even I was considered above them on the totem pole. Just thinking about the things she’d contributed to and enabled incited a visceral response of anger in my gut. I didn’t want her to get away.

My power surged to life. I felt by energy pool decrease fractionally, less even than it took to summon a beetleing. The air shattered in front of my face, a tiny patch no bigger than my fist. Unthinkingly I held up my hand to catch whatever formed out of it.

What formed was… disgusting. It looked like an eyeball with a greenish-yellow pupil, slitted like a cat’s for a moment before it expanded wide to adjust to the darkness. Trailing from the back of it were long strings of nerves, some webbed together by smaller strands to form a pair of fins or flaps. The eye was wet, liquid already starting to pool on my gloves.

But none of that was my focus. My focus was that I could _see_. Even as I looked at it, I could see myself. I held up a thumb to cover it and saw my new sight get covered by the same thumb. I dropped the thumb away, amazed and a little disoriented to have an entirely new perspective.

I cast a glance toward Trainwreck to see if he noticed the sound of its appearance. He hadn’t, being too busy using the now-stopped propeller blade to ward off my savage while he grabbed at my beetleings to tear them from his body. To be safe I edged around the side of the shed, out of his line of sight. I sent a few commands to my beetleings to ensure they went after the more vital targets, then turned my attention back towards my new creature as the one with the jagged shard of metal used it to gouge one of the tires on his feet.

I turned my attention back towards the eye sitting in my gloved hand. I moved it around and saw my new field of vision move in return. It was incredible, though the sight wasn’t exactly like mine. For one I needed glasses, while the vision from it was perfectly clear. More prominently, I could see through it as if there was no darkness. Instead of squinting to make things out by moonlight and distant streetlights, I could see myself as clearly as if it was day. The colors were washed out though, rendering everything a greyish tint, and the lack of shadows made for an eerie loss of depth to what I was seeing. But I wasn’t about to complain.

Now I just had to use it. My theories about my power came to mind as I considered the eye, or rather, minion, in my hand. I’d first summoned beetleings when in needed to get out of my locker, and they had the ability to break down mechanical things. I’d first summoned savages when being attacked, and they were skilled at and equipped for violence. This appeared when I didn’t want Squealer to get away and it gave me a way to see remotely.

No, I first needed to figure out _how_ to use it. It could help me track her, but first it needed to get to her and then not lose the trail, but I wasn’t sure how to do that. I shook that thought out of my head. I hadn’t known what my beetleings could do while I was in the locker either, but they’d done what I needed them to do. I had to trust it could serve its role.

I gave the eye its command. “Follow Squealer.”

Immediately its fins of nerves snapped out and down, launching it away from my hand. Another few quick movements and I realized the “fins” were actually frayed and tattered wings, bearing it aloft as the remaining nerves twined together to form a tail. It rose into the air, the flapping of its wings shaking loose fat drops of liquid from its eye-body as it went higher and higher. I felt a thrill as my new point of vision gained altitude. I could see myself, the fight with Trainwreck, parts of the Trainyard and the streets, all from high above. It wasn’t quite flying, but it was good enough.

The eye began to fly off in the direction Squealer had been moving. I had to force myself to try and ignore its input as I turned my attention back to Trainwreck. It was a struggle to try and ignore what was almost an entirely new sense and to ignore the thrill of pseudo-flying, but I focused on the fight at hand as best I could.

I’d been distracted by my new creature and hadn’t been paying much attention to the fight, but Trainwreck still wasn’t doing very well. This suit had clearly been designed for speed rather than durability, leaving wires, pipes, tubes, and hydraulics on the outside rather than bulking up the body by making them internal. By now a good portion of those had been ripped free or broken, leaving him moving distinctly slower than he had been. His speed and maneuverability had been further reduced by the tire I’d directed them to rip out, and outright negated by the fact that the beetleings were already on him. I could almost thank Squealer for knocking him down and making him an easier target if I didn’t hate her and her whole gang.

Still, however good my minions had been in my absence, they still weren’t very good at taking initiative. I commanded the beetleing still holding the length of pipe to stop whacking Trainwreck in the back and instead throw it to the savage, who was still unarmed after using up its chain to tangle the rotor blade. Now with its hands free, I directed it and the others to focus specifically on Trainwreck’s right leg rather than just attacking whatever happened to catch their eye.

They quickly crawled down his body, finding footholds in the seams of metal and assorted wires to set upon the limb. Two clustered around the hip joint, prying at the paneling to get at the internal mechanisms. The third, still holding the sharp piece of metal, crawled lower to go for the wheel set into his knee.

Trainwreck didn’t miss their sudden coordination. “No, get off you fuckers!” he yelled.

He grabbed for them, managing to seize one in his spindly hand. I took advantage of his distraction with a quick order to my savage. It ducked low and moved closer, dodging past the bladed arm as it grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and immediately threw it in Trainwreck’s face.

“Damn it!” He took a step back, waving the propeller arm to drive the savage back. I already had it retreat, circling around to his left side where his guard was weaker. The dirt didn’t get into his eyes thanks to the goggles, but he was spitting to clear his mouth and some still settled on the lenses. With his hands buried in his suit, he wouldn’t be able to wipe them clean to see.

Any chance he had to try and counter-attack promptly vanish as the beetleing finished tearing through the tire in his knee. Apparently the wheel had been  pulling double duty as part of the knee joint, because it caused the entire joint to buckle under him. He dropped to one knee and tried to catch himself with his hands, only for the propeller on his right arm to hit the ground and throw him even more off balance. He let go of the beetleing in his other hand as he caught himself with that arm, leaving him precariously balanced and barely avoiding falling for a third time.

Both hands occupied holding him up, off balance, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. I sent my savage forward and it punched Trainwreck in the face. I was careful about the command to make sure it only punched instead of using its claws or pipe, but it worked well. He fell onto one shoulder instead of awkwardly holding himself up as he tried to move with the blow while his actual body was trapped within the body of his suit, leaving him even more vulnerable.

With good news on both fronts, my flying eye had found Squealer. Surprisingly she hadn’t gone far, only to the buildings at the edge of the Trainyard. Her wheel vehicle was no longer a wheel, now resembling some ungodly combination of motorcycle, monster truck, train, and centipede. A dozen wheeled segments each linked to one another to form a long vehicle, with Squealer standing on the from segment holding onto a chain like a leash.

It headed full speed towards a building without slowing or turning. Just before it hit, the front segments curved up so it struck the side of the building at a curve and rolled upward thanks to its momentum and the continued force from the rear segments still on the ground. It was losing momentum just before it got to the top and the first segment bent over to settle onto the roof. The mechanism quickly reversed, with the parts on the roof moving forward to pull the whole thing up.

Once the entire thing was on the roof and the wall of the building defaced with tire tracks, it turned back towards the Trainyard. The vehicle shuddered and the front rose up, the back sliding forward to compensate until the whole thing was reared up like a precarious mechanical cobra, with Squealer standing on top. She seemed focused on looking at something, so I sent a mental command to my flying eye to move around so it could look from behind her and see what she was looking at.

Her position made sense with the new perspective. She was overlooking the Trainyard, trying to watch the area where Trainwreck and I were, no doubt trying to keep an eye on the fight. I grinned under my bandanna. She really was planning to come fight whoever won as soon as she could tell the fight was over. That was fine by me. By doing this, she basically negated all her advantages of speed and limited range for my minions, making her an easy target to get to once I finished with Trainwreck.

Though I did still have to finish that fight before moving to the next. My beetleings had stripped apart the plating surrounding the hip joint of the limb and had moved on to ripping out the wires and tubes that ran through it. Trainwreck had seemingly given up on standing, using the wheels in his working knee, foot, and free hand to slide away from the savage.

His escape was abruptly stopped as the beetleings finally got through the crucial parts of the hip, causing the entire limb to spasm and go limp. Already holding his right arm off the ground to keep the propeller’s bent blades from interfering with his movement, the loss of his right leg caused him to collapse again.

Cursing loudly, he tried to reach down and grab them, but I already sent them their next commands. They crawled up over his back to the shoulder of his left arm, setting to work immediately.

Trainwreck tried to reach over his shoulder for them, but they were too small and quick for him to get a hold of. Seeming to realize he wouldn’t be able to get them that way, he tucked his arm to his body and dropped to the ground, rolling onto his back to try and crush them. They managed to scamper out of the way, running around to his front or dropping to the ground before jumping back on. But now Trainwreck was on his back, forcing them to work in front of him where he could see them and more easily retaliate.

Or at least that was his idea. He tried to swat at them, only to jerk to a stop as he nearly hit himself with the propeller arrangement on his arm. He pulled it back and stuck to hitting them with his left arm, with the soon apparent flaw that their work on it made it too jerky to actually hit them. Realizing this, he reached for the propeller on his other arm. Whether it was to unwind the chain from its mechanism or detach it entirely, I didn’t know, but I still wasn’t going to let him do it.

I sent my savage in again from where it had been standing back in reserve. He didn’t see it before it was on him, punching him across the face again. He abandoned his work at the propeller to try and swing it at the savage, but I already had it moving. Rather than retreat, this time I had it leap up and onto the chest of his suit. Its fanged and horrifying face was just above him as it crouched atop him, raising the hand with the pipe up above his head, but not striking, in an obviously threatening gesture.

He spat at it before trying to reach for it. “Screw you, you-”

I had it punch him with the hand with the pipe. The pipe itself didn’t hit him, but clenched in its fist, the metal rod made the punch hit harder than it would have otherwise. He clearly felt it as his flinch carried over to the limbs of his suit. A second later, his left arm spasmed and fell limp, leaving him with only two limbs, both with faulty mechanisms.

The savage raised the pipe again, reiterating its threat. Those his eyes were hidden by goggles, I could tell Trainwreck was looking between it and the beetleings. He raised his remaining hand again, but this time not in an attack.

“I give up!” he said.

I hesitated, a bit surprised. From what I’d heard about villains, they fought tooth and nail until they couldn’t fight anymore. Surrendering was genuinely something I hadn’t expected from him. My hesitation carried over to the savage, which remained frozen as it waited for its next command. Not so much for the beetleings, who though they had already disabled the limb I’d directed them to, still hadn’t been ordered to stop. The left arm of Trainwreck’s suit fell completely off as they finally demolished the entirety of the joint.

“Hey!” he yelled, his temporary compliance giving way to anger again. “Stop that! Do you know how long it takes to build a new arm?”

I had my savage bring the pipe down to strike the armor beside his head as a warning. He flinched away from it, shutting up for now. I gave the beetleings new orders, causing them to move down to his left leg, his most functional remaining limb. A surrender was well and good, but I didn’t want to leave the Tinker with his armored suit in case he had some hidden trick to pull out before the PRT arrived.

“Hey, look, let’s not be hasty.” he said quickly as the beetleings moved in. “You’re looking to strongarm me into being your pet Tinker, right? Fine, I’ll do it, just leave me my _fucking_ limbs!”

The sudden urgency in his voice made me hesitate. It felt like there was something here I wasn’t seeing, but I couldn’t ask him about it without revealing myself and I wasn’t ready to do that just yet. Still, I could at least address his concerns about being made into someone’s Tinker slave.

I had my savage shake its head.

Even peeking around the corner of a shed in the dark, I could see Trainwreck get pissed at that. “Why the hell not?!” he yelled. “What’s so hard about-”

I already had my savage shaking its head again, making a looping motion with its pipe to try and indicate ‘before that.’

“What?” Trainwreck said, more confused than angry now.

I had the savage repeat the gesture.

“The other thing?”

I had it nod.

“What, the part about you strongarming me?”

I had it nod again.

He snorted through his nose. “Real talkative asshole, you are. So you’re not looking to ‘recruit’ me?” he said, making motion with his remaining arm that might have been air quotes on the word ‘recruit.’

I had it shake its head, then issued a series of more complicated commands. Using the pipe, it traced out letters in the air, ‘PRT.’ Trainwreck didn’t seem to understand the first time, so I had it repeat the process twice more before he caught on.

“P-R-” Trainwreck said aloud as he watched it. “PRT? You’re a hero?”

I nodded through the savage.

He was silent for a moment, then burst out into laughter. “You’re a hero? Oh, fuck me, I can’t believe this! You’re a goddamned nightmare is what you are! If you stuck a sheriff’s badge on Lung, I’d believe he’s a hero more than you!”

He was laughing so hard he didn’t even notice as his left leg finally fell apart. I’d stopped focusing on the beetleings while trying to communicate through the savage, leaving them to continue working on his leg. By now there were no two pieces left together, so I sent them to disassemble the arm with the propeller. It probably wasn’t totally necessary given that his suit was already sitting at three ruined limbs, but I was annoyed.

I’d known that with this power, being a hero would be tricky. The beetleings, the savages, and now the flying eyes, nothing I could make would look good in front of a camera even with a full PR team backing me. But hearing it from someone else so bluntly hurt. It was uncomfortably close to the feelings I’d had when I realized Tattletale though I’d make a good villain.

His laugher died off as he realized the beetleings were setting onto his one remaining limb. He tried to move away, seemed confused that he didn’t have a leg left to respond, then tried to pull the arm away from them. I had the savage smack the pipe down next to his head again and he begrudgingly put his arm down on the ground for them to work on.

“You want to take my arms and legs, fine,” Trainwreck said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t. “But can you at least leave me sealed in the body? It’s tricky enough to disconnect myself from it, I don’t want you to rip my spine out when you try and pry it open. You’ve got chains and stuff, just pile it on me or something. I promise I won’t try and make a break for it.”

I wasn’t wholly certain, but there was a note of pleading in his voice that convinced me. One of  the most commonly repeated things about Tinkertech was that only the original Tinker really understood it, and I was inclined to trust his knowledge of his own work. As my beetleings detached his final limb at the elbow, I had my savage go to the propeller and untangle the chain from it. With Trainwreck de-limbed, I had the savage start wrapping the chain around the body of Trainwreck’s suit while sending the beetleings out to look for more. I stopped trying to tune out the extra eye’s worth of vision long enough to confirm that Squealer was still at her perch, though she seemed pretty antsy. I had to wrap this up soon before she decided to come back or leave.

The beetleings returned with some more chain, helping to wrap it around Trainwreck to seal shut any hatch he might try to escape through or reveal yet another suit, tangling it around the portions of his remaining limbs and hooking it directly to the other empty sockets.

Trainwreck remained bitterly silent as they worked, his face a mask of anger and some other emotion I couldn’t place. After a few minutes they were done, leaving him bound in an improvised cocoon of chains. I had my savage point at him, then at the ground. ‘Stay here.’

“Oh yeah, I’ll make sure not to run away.” Trainwreck said sarcastically. He wiggled the remainder of his right arm, the only limb he had left with even that much mobility.

I had my beetleings scatter into the surrounding area until they were far enough away I could dismiss them without alerting him by the noise and light. With that done, I summoned another flying eye and sent it up to watch him from above. It was disorienting seeing from three perspectives at once, two of which being entirely unconnected from my body, but it was too useful not to do.

I circled around to the other side of the shed and fished out the cellphone. Consulting the list of numbers, I dialed the one for the PRT.

“Parahuman Response Team emergency dispatch, what’s the situation?” A man’s voice answered at the other end.

I hesitated for a moment, not sure how to really talk to them as a cape, particularly one without a name, before deciding to just dump the info on them. “Trainwreck has been subdued,” I said into the phone, quietly enough that my voice wouldn’t carry to Trainwreck. “He’s in the Trainyard about two minutes in from the intersection of Mason and Hayden.”

There was a moment of silence from the other end. “Roger, the location is noted. A PRT squad is on its way now. Who is this?”

I hung up without answering. That was one problem down. Trainwreck was down and the PRT was on their way to collect him, a total victory for what I’d set out to do tonight. But now with Squealer, I was presented an opportunity to go beyond that. I had a chance to bring down two villains in one night, and a PRT squad already on its way nearby.

I moved towards the other villain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Summon: Isitoq (NE diminutive undead, CR 1/2)


	12. Prowl 2.6

Squealer was antsy, I could tell that much just by looking at her. Maybe she was eager for the fight to be over, maybe she knew it already was. The flying eye’s ability to see in the dark was helpful, but it also meant I couldn’t tell how much of the Trainyard was too dark for her to see.

As a result, my move towards her was awkward. I could see myself at distance through the flying eye, which helped give me an idea of what fences and debris would provide me concealment from Squealer, but it wasn’t perfect. Every time she shifted on her feet and looked around I froze, afraid I’d moved wrong and caught her attention. What I needed was a distraction.

Luckily, I had one. I commanded the savage guarding Trainwreck to start banging its pipe against one of the nearby wrecked cars. It had the desired effect as Squealer’s gaze snapped back to that area, freeing me up to move. I hurried faster so I could make the most of her distraction.

Strangely enough, the noise seemed to make her less on edge. It dawned on me that the sound probably made it seem like the fight was still going on, which in turn meant that she didn’t have to worry about actually having to do anything. But that meant as soon as the PRT showed up the illusion would be ruined and she’d probably just run for it. I had to work fast.

My path didn’t head straight for Squealer, but instead veered about half a block to the side so I could cross the street from the Trainyard to the buildings without walking in her direct line of sight. I was still nervous that she might be able to see me, and I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until I was all the way across and could see through my flying eye that she didn’t react to my passage. Now that I was close enough to send minions after her without much delay between their summoning and arriving at her, I just needed to act.

The problem was there weren’t any good options for that. A savage would be able to take her, but with her vehicle she could just outdistance it and prevent it from ever getting in a situation where it could do that. A beetleing could wreck her vehicle, but right now she was using it as an elevated tower atop a building. If it broke something crucial and she fell, she wouldn’t be getting up again.

A compromise then. I summoned a beetleing and a savage, sending the beetleing to the building she was perched on and holding the savage in reserve. I would get the beetleing in a position to sabotage her vehicle, then use the savage to drive her into a situation where breaking it posed less of a risk of hurting her.

Giving the beetleing orders was fairly easy, even from this distance, thanks to the flying eye helping me know where it was in context to Squealer. I directed it around to the other side of the building as the one Squealer was looking out over and told it to climb. It leapt up and began to quickly scale the brick of the building’s side. I’d known from their performance at climbing fences in the Trainyard that they were good climbers, but it was moving upward even faster than I’d thought it would. Another interesting note about their capabilities, then.

It reached the top with ease, and I immediately ordered it to move towards Squealer’s vehicle. The machine had a large opening at the back festooned with ports and plugs, presumably how she’d connected it to the front to make the ring shape, which provided a very convenient entrance to the inner workings of the vehicle.

I had the beetleing leap up and it quickly squeezed in through the gaps between connections. Squealer herself was still busy looking off at the area where my savage was beating on a car, oblivious to what was happening behind her. Things broke in the process of it making enough room to push its body through, but considering the beetleing’s purpose there, it wasn’t really an issue.

Now that I had my saboteur in place, I sent my savage. I could see through my flying eye that the building didn’t have any fire escapes, so I sent it to the side that had the most empty window frames and other wear and tear it could use as footholds. It was definitely a less gifted climber than the beetleing, nearly falling more than once in its slow climb. By the time it got to the top, I could hear the faint blare of sirens in the distance.

I didn’t waste time. As soon as the savage was on the rooftop I had it rush Squealer. She didn’t even know it was there until it leapt up onto her vehicle. She spun towards it as I had it climb up her improvised tower towards her. She yelled something, though I couldn’t hear anything through the eye, and stepped on something by her foot.

Immediately the whole thing slid back away from the edge and dropped out of tower form. That was all I needed. I directed the beetleing to start tearing apart the inner workings of the segment it was in. From there I would have it work its way forwards, reducing more and more of the vehicle to dead weight. I estimated it would take breaking down a little more than half of the whole thing before it could no longer function.

My savage had been nearly shaken loose by the sudden shift in the vehicle’s positioning, but managed to cling onto a seam between two segments. I sent it forwards again towards Squealer. Every good plan had a backup, and mine was to have the savage capture her, vehicle or not.

Squealer, who had been similarly shaken by the shift, saw the savage coming. Rather than panic, she wrapped the chains she was holding like reins around her arms and hauled them to the side. The whole vehicle quickly started moving, spinning in a circle like a dog chasing its tail. I stalled my savage’s advance, ordering it to hunker down and grip the vehicle to avoid being thrown off.

Then the vehicle split apart. The gap between the segment my savage was on and the one in front of it abruptly came apart, splitting the whole thing in two. Then it detached from the segment behind it, and the centrifugal force of the vehicle’s spinning took care of the rest.

The segment, with my savage still clinging to the top, was sent hurdling off the roof. They crashed into the alley wall of the next building before falling four stories to the ground below. I dismissed the savage before it could strike the ground, reabsorbing the energy rather than loosing it all upon its violent landing.

Through my flying eye I was Squealer stop her spinning atop the roof, dizzily staggering on her vehicle and only barely avoiding falling off. The severed back half of the vehicle reoriented itself and shot forward, homing in on the front half like a magnet and reattaching itself. The whole thing was one segment shorter now, but losing a segment didn’t seem to have really affected it.

Several alleys away, I cursed. That was two plans wrecked through one trick. If her vehicle could just shed segments of itself, sabotaging them did nothing unless I got every single one. Savages were likewise useless unless I could get one close enough to her that she couldn’t get away or just drop another part of her vehicle. Or unless I could throw enough at her quickly enough that she shed every other segment of the thing, but I doubted a Tinker with a vehicle specialty would sit around in one place long enough for that to happen.

The sirens were blaring now. I started moving farther from the Trainyard, hoping to avoid getting spotted as an obvious cape in an area where an unknown cape had just called in Trainwreck’s capture. Squealer noticed them too, and through the flying eye I could see the lights of the PRT trucks turning onto the street running alongside the Trainyard.

Apparently deciding it wasn’t worth sticking around anymore, Squealer turned her vehicle towards the side of the building and headed for it at full speed. She leapt the gap to the next building, the front half landing and pulling across the back half. The final segment stalled as it landed, courtesy of my beetleing’s work. She cast a glance over her shoulder at it and let the broken segment disconnect, my beetleing heeding my command and scrambling forward into the next segment just in time. I had to give her credit, bizarre though the thing looked, it was excellent at traversing rooftops. Not a quality I would have considered in a vehicle before, but I was learning a lot of things with one excursion, another being that my flying eye was not faster than a car.

It kept flying after her as per my command, but the gap between them was growing larger. The gap between Squealer and me was larger still, seeing as I was a normal person running on foot and she was more or less in a car. I needed to level the playing field.

Through the flying eye I had watching over Trainwreck, I could see the PRT were nearly to him. No doubt the savage banging on a car a few feet away helped give them a direction. True to his word, Trainwreck was still sitting passively without attempting to break free, whether from cooperation or lack of ability. In either case, the PRT were close enough that he wouldn’t get away even if he had some extra card up his sleeve.

I had the savage stop its banging and run away from the approaching PRT squad, dismissing it as soon as it was out of Trainwreck’s sight. I dismissed the flying eye immediately after before summoning a new one and sending it up to fly above me. Helpful for how it gave me a bird’s eye view of the area around me and find the best routes forward, less so for actually running faster.

I reached out to my beetleing, sending it forward to the midpoint of the vehicle with a new order for sabotage. I couldn’t tell where it was exactly in the vehicle or even what it was doing so I had no idea what its progress was. The first sign I had of its success was when Squealer went to the next roof and the vehicle split apart in the middle.

She stopped abruptly, spinning back around to reconnect the back. Or more accurately, trying and failing. Blocks behind her, I couldn’t help but grin. Sure, she could just discard segments as they broke. But by targeting the connections between the segments, I could disrupt the entire thing’s ability to work as a singular unit and thus its ability to move between rooftops.

The front segment of the back half detached and moved to connect to the back. The new front segment successfully attached to the front half, but the back segment couldn’t attach to the end. Squealer flipped off the broken segment and had it drive off the edge of the roof before continuing on. There was still a gap between us, but it was a bit smaller now, and my flying eye had already had time to catch up to her.

I repeated the process, sending my beetleing after another segment. Within a minute the situation played out again, buying me more time to catch up and costing Squealer another segment.

She was still dangerously close to the edge of my range, so I stepped up the boldness of my plan. The next sabotage came while she was in the middle of crossing between roofs. Squealer was safe on a rooftop, but when the connection between the segments broke, it sent the back half falling down the gap into an alley and forced her to step on the gas before the last few segments of her half followed it.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw her almost cartoonish temper tantrum at the loss of half her vehicle. My first night out, and even the first part of tonight had put a bad taste in my mouth, but this? Harrying an asshole of a villain and not being in danger of getting attacked or found out? This was good.

My good humor promptly evaporated as Squealer turned and drove towards the nearest alley. As short as it was now, there was a very small margin of error for her to get to another building. As it was, she didn’t even try. She was moving just fast enough for the front segment to hit the opposite wall, leaving the entire thing to bend down in a U shape and brace the first and last segment against the opposite walls, spinning their tires as it fell to slow its descent.

It hit the ground hard, but not hard enough to break apart or shake Squealer off. It broke apart into individual segments to squeeze out of the alley before grouping back together, but not reconnecting, on the street. Even the segments from the fallen back half returned, or at least the ones that hadn’t been wrecked in the crash. Between the crash and the other sabotages, she’d lost roughly half the segments of the vehicle, but that was a hollow victory as she opened up the throttle and shot away down the street.

I could only watch as she sped further and further away. My beetleing was still in one of the segments, but with them all separated like this, I couldn’t do much to stop it. I tried anyways, directing it to tear apart the segment’s engine. Half a minute later I felt my connection to the beetleing vanish as it left my range. Moments after that the segment it had been working on stalled and broke down.

Squealer left it behind without a second glance. I slowed to a stop as I resigned myself to the fact that she’d gotten away. Annoying, but I had to admit that it had been a long shot to think I could chase her down in the first place.

I watched her through the flying eye as she got farther and farther away. Still, at least I’d gotten Trainwreck. A villain off the streets and my training spot reclaimed, that was a win in my corner. I started to walk away, intending to call a cab for a ride back to my neighborhood when something caught my eye.

Squealer was stopping. She was a ways away, far enough that even through the excellent vision of my flying eye it was hard to make out what she was doing, but she’d stopped by a larger building. Curious I moved closer, allowing the flying eye to move just as far with the border of my power.

A large door opened up on the building and she drove into it, followed by all of the vehicle segments, before it closed behind her. I cocked my head, thinking for a moment before a grin spread across my face. She’d said this was her turf, and I’d just been plaguing her with vehicle malfunctions. Of course she’d head for a garage.

I set off running again, continuing after her. Now that she’d gone to ground I had a specific destination, and that was an excellent motivator.

My flying eye got to the building before I did. I had it scout around, looking for ways into the building and openings to spy on Squealer through. By now I was tired from all the running tonight and planning my attack was a convenient distraction.

Her garage was apparently an old warehouse, one with plenty of side doors and skylights. Through one of the skylights, my flying eye could look into the entire open space. It clear that this was definitely one of Squealer’s main workshops, or at least one she specifically used instead of hijacking from other mechanics. Half-assembled vehicles were scatter through the room, ranging from a six-wheeled monster truck to a seat set within a sphere of gyroscopic rings.

Squealer was in the middle of it, rummaging around nearby her now recombined segment vehicle. She pulled parts out of a box before consulting what looked like hand-drawn blueprints and hurrying over to pop open the side of a segment about halfway down the chain.

It was a longer run than I would have liked, but she didn’t seem to make much progress in the time it took. When I arrived she’d actually taken most of a segment apart to check over each piece.

I circled around the edge of the building to a side door and summoned a beetleing, followed by two savages. I directed the beetleing to break down the door’s lock, opening the path to Squealer. Right now my goal was to take her down before she could get to a vehicle, with the beetleing as a backup measure to sabotage anything she could use to escape. The segment vehicle looked like the only complete project in the entire workshop so it would be the main target, starting with the first segment she drove from. Now that it was on ground level, there wasn’t much danger of her falling to her death if it went wrong.

 My two flying eyes were still pulling surveillance duty, one over me and one watching into the warehouse. I was already getting used to the sensation of seeing through eyes that weren’t my own. As a result, I was already planning ways to incorporate them into my tactics for the future. But that would have to wait until later.

The lock popped open and my minions crept into the building. My beetleing went first, just like last time. I used the flying eye to tell when Squealer was looking away and adjusted its orders accordingly. As a result it approached the segment vehicle and squirmed up through the underside of the front segment, unnoticed despite Squealer working on the same vehicle.

With it in place, I sent in the savages. I had them move stealthily as the circled through the workshop, looking to catch Squealer between them and cut off her escape by getting them as close as possible before she noticed.

As it turned out, that was pretty close. One of them was within ten feet of her before she glanced up from her work and saw the monster skulking behind a workbench.

Though I couldn’t hear her, I could see her scream and scramble away as I ordered the savages to pounce. The closer one lunged, stepping onto the workbench to leap towards her as the other clambered over the segment vehicle to catch her from behind. She snatched up a large wrench and swung it at the closer savage, catching it in the jaw and buying her enough space to turn and run towards her vehicle.

The other savage was already there in her way, reaching out to seize her by the arm. She tried to pull free, but she was holding the wrench with that had and I had the savage snatch it from her before she could think to switch hands. The other savage was moving in now, one of its mandible-jaws clearly broken. I sent it off to search for cables or chains to restrain Squealer with.

As soon as she was left alone with just one, Squealer pulled something from her pocket and stabbed at the arm it was using to hold her. It staggered back, nearly releasing her as she pulled the now bloodied screwdriver free from its wrist. As she brought it around for another stab, this one aimed at its face, I ordered it to subdue her.

I immediately came to regret that order when it slammed the wrench into her shoulder. Squealer screamed and crumpled to her knees, pulling her shoulder at an angle I was pretty sure it shouldn’t be at. I cursed, having the savage toss the wrench away and release Squealer. The incident with Aegis flashed through my mind, where the savage had preemptively attacked him because of a too-broad order on my part. Trainwreck had made me complacent, fighting an enemy durable enough that such commands couldn’t hurt.

Squealer had recovered, scrambling away from the savage around the front of the segment vehicle as she cradled her injured arm. I sent the savage to grab her again, being more specific with my commands this time.

That proved to be another mistake. As soon as it stepped in front of the vehicle, Squealer reached up and slapped something on the side of the first segment. Ports resembling fat exhaust pipes popped out at the front and a loud bang sounded, loud enough for me to hear it through the walls of the warehouse.

The savage and everything else in front of the vehicle was violently thrown back. Workbenches toppled, tools became projectiles, and the savage soared at least thirty feet before striking a support column hard enough to immediately shatter into nonexistence. I recognized that bang as the same sound that occurred when she’d thrown Trainwreck. What the hell was that, some kind of weaponized exhaust?

I was already summoning another savage and sending the other after Squealer again, abandoning the extension cords it had collected in the process, but she was already clambering up onto the segment vehicle. She grabbed both chains in her uninjured hand, straddling the vehicle rather than standing atop it, and set it into motion. It spun around, the back end sideswiping the other savage into a wall and destroying it. I summoned another new savage and sent it after the other, but she was driving towards the broad door to the garage, which was beginning to creak open.

I reached out to the beetleing in the segment she sat on, directing it to sabotage the engine explosively. I didn’t want it to just stall out, but stun Squealer long enough for my savages to catch up, though I made sure to specify how drastic the breakdown should be.

The doors opened and Squealer roared out onto the street. The savages managed to leap onto the last segment of the vehicle, but she just disconnected it and sent it driving backwards to put them farther from her. I had them leap off and keep chasing on foot, but they were too far to hope to get back onto the vehicle. I watched through the flying eyes as she flipped them the bird and drove away.

She made it half a block before the engine blew out. Fire shot out from under the hood as the whole thing skidded to a stop. Squealer leapt from the vehicle, franticly patting at her legs to put out the sparks that sprayed onto her and scrambling farther away from the now burning vehicle. She looked up from the ground and caught sight of the approaching savages. That was enough to light a fire under her as she staggered to her feet and tried to run.

But the savages were faster than her, and she was injured. One grabbed her by the injured arm, which I quickly corrected to the unharmed one, hauling her back. The two grabbed her and began dragging her away from the vehicle, back towards her garage and me. I dismissed one of the flying eyes and summoned another savage, sending it into the garage to collect the extension cables the other had dropped.

Within a minute, Squealer had been tied to the telephone pole in front of her garage. I’d tried to be considerate of her injured arm, but I had to balance that with keeping her secure. Plus there was the added complexity of the fact that I didn’t really know the right knots to tie someone up, which certainly didn’t translate well through the savages that were doing the tying.

I was thrilled. Not only had I taken down Trainwreck, but I’d also gotten Squealer in the same night! And all without ever having to show my face. This was a massive win for me, without question, enough that I was already trying to consider excuses for why last weekend didn’t actually count so I could say this was my first night out.

I was fishing the phone out to call the PRT again when I noticed something out of the corner of my flying eye. I reoriented it to get a better look and found a pair of PRT trucks already headed down this street. I wasn’t sure if they just happened to be coming this way after picking up Trainwreck or if someone else had called them after hearing Squealer’s vehicle explode, but I wasn’t about to question it. It was one less call I had to make, and the testimony Squealer would give meant I didn’t have to worry about not getting credit.

Credit that involved severely injuring her shoulder. I winced at that thought. Between this and Aegis, I was pretty worried about getting a reputation as a ‘violence first, questions never’ kind of cape.

Those were worries I could have later at home. I started walking, groaning a bit at the soreness in my legs. The amount I’d run tonight far outstripped the amount I’d been starting with in my morning jogs. I’d have to up my routine later, but for now I just wanted to get home and collapse into bed.

I scattered the savages into alleys and dismissed them, leaving the flying eye to watch over Squealer. I’d gotten about half a block away when two PRT vans pulled to a stop in front of her. I wasn’t paying much attention as the troopers got out of them to collect her. She was yelling something at them, they were presumably saying something to her, but I’d done my part. Now I just needed to get far enough away to call a cab without it seeming suspiciously close.

My attention was abruptly brought back as someone stepped closer to Squealer. I hadn’t noticed him standing among the PRT troopers before, as the flying eye’s night vision only showed shades of gray, but under the streetlight I could see the red of his costume. Aegis.

I sped up my walking pace, now paying wary attention to the scene. Squealer has stopped screaming, but she was still saying something. And Aegis was listening. The PRT troopers had actually stopped taking her to the van, apparently on his request.

I looked the group over more carefully now and spotted another cape, holding a hoverboard with a pair of pistols at his side. Even without color I could identify him as Kid Win. He was probably one of the more popular Wards, mainly because kids liked the hoverboard, but I didn’t know much about him as a person. He was friendly and personable, sure, but supposedly so was Aegis.

Abruptly, Aegis gave a hand signal and Squealer was pulled away before he turned to the troopers and Kid Win. He talked for a few seconds before shooting up into the air. I panicked and had my flying eye gain altitude, trying to put more distance between him and it before he spotted it. I was so preoccupied with Aegis I nearly missed what was going on below him.

While one truck was pulling away with Squealer, the other was staying put. The troopers were spreading out, looking down alleys and checking doors. Kid Win mounted his hoverboard and flew out in a broad zigzag heading away from me, while Aegis began flying in a matching zigzag in the opposite direction, towards me. They were searching for me.

 _Fuck_ that. I broke into a run, aiming to put as much distance between me and them as possible. There was no way I was going to let that psychopath find me, especially if he could rough me up and claim I resisted arrest.

I summoned another flying eye and sent it up above me to give me a guide through the alleys and streets. After a moment’s hesitation, I also summoned two savages and sent them off as decoys. I didn’t summon a third, planning to keep an opening for anything I needed to summon without having to dismiss something else. The first flying eye I sent to follow Aegis. It had to fly high above him to avoid detection, but it helped me keep track of him.

The problem was that simply tracking him wasn’t enough. He flew fast, fast enough that he would surely catch up to me. Tired as I was I kept flagging and then forcing myself to pick up the pace, only to repeat the process a few seconds later.

I had a moment of hope when he passed over one of my savages and slowed for a moment, only to put a finger to his ear and say something before continuing on his flight. Not for the first time, I cursed meeting him that night. Of course the decoys didn’t work on him, he’d seen me in person and knew what my savages looked like. Which probably meant he’d passed the knowledge on to everyone else.

He kept coming. At his pace I wouldn’t be able to outrun him, so I changed gears from running to hiding. I ducked into an alcove, the kind that used to be an entrance before someone bricked up the door, pressing myself back against the wall and hoping he wouldn’t be able to see me.

He made another pass, then another. It would only be a few more before he passed right over me. I felt hollow with fear, remembering every nightmare I’d had about him since our meeting. My hiding pace felt woefully inadequate, but running and looking for another one would only make me more visible. I wished I’d been more urgent with leaving the scene with Squealer before I’d known he was here, but now my only chance to avoid getting cornered by him again was to hide and hope.

My power flared to life. I felt a chunk of my energy disappear, twice what I used up to summon a savage, and something formed out of the shattering air in front of me. For a moment I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.

It was as large as I was, a mass of translucent chitinous plates, pale eyes, and half-formed pseudopods, all held together and merged by a thick slime. That was all I saw before it surged towards me. It spread out, abruptly filling the entire opening of the alcove, sealing me in and plunging me into darkness. Through the flying eye I had watching over me, I saw it flatten out and reshape itself to fit over the alcove. It rippled for a moment, then began to change. Patterns flared to life and settled, shifting to match the surroundings. In a few seconds, it had solidified into the appearance of the brick wall surrounding it.

Its disguise was almost seamless. There was a bit of a bulging border from where it covered the edges of the alcove, and I couldn’t tell anything about the color, but to someone who didn’t know it was there it was practically invisible.

That was put to the test a few moments later when Aegis flew by overhead. I held my breath, but he didn’t so much as slow down as he passed by.

I let out a sigh or relief. That was one problem dealt with, at least for now. I brought down the flying eye that watched over me and had it perch on the underside of the edge of a roof across the street, hiding itself from observers above and providing me a peephole to the outside. At the same time, I watched through the one following Aegis as he found my other decoy.

The disguise worked, and I could keep track of them until they were done. I just had to wait in here until it was safe to go out. Just had to wait. Here.

My skin prickled with anxiety. Waiting was going to be easier said than done. Sealed into a small, dark space like this was bringing back some very unfortunate memories.

I tried to distract myself by thinking about my new minion. My flying eyes were pretty straightforward in their capabilities, but this was more of an unknown. Becoming a wall seemed pretty restrictive as far as powers go, so there was probably more to it. What else could it become? Just single-part objects, or complex machines too? Could it become a person?

It wasn’t helping. Even with two viewpoints outside, I still felt claustrophobic. I tried to slide down the wall and sit, but my knees hit the fake wall of my minions and stopped me. I took a deep, shuddering breath as I tried to shake off the memories, then another. In, out, in, out. I focused on my breathing and shut my eyes. I just had to try and tune out my own body just like I did the flying eyes. They didn’t have any way to truly shut off any more than I did, so I just had to do that. Focus on what I could see through them, and ignore my real body. Focus-

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the ringing of a cellphone. Banging my elbows against every wall of the alcove, I scrabbled the phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it in my hurry. Without thinking, in an attempt to make the ringing stop, I hit the answer button.

For a moment there was silence. Then…

“Hey there!”

I closed my eyes and groaned. Tattletale. Figured she’d know the number of the phone she gave me. For a moment I considered simply hanging up. But I _really_ did not like this alcove, and as much as I disliked her, she was still another voice.

I put the phone to my ear. “What?” I asked bluntly, aware that my voice was a bit too tight to just pass off as annoyance.

“Just wanted to check in. Heard on the police scanner that someone called in to the PRT from the Trainyard. Figured you’d probably wrapped up for the night and were heading in.”

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore my surroundings. “Pretty much. I know you’re not just calling to be nice. What do you want?”

“Before I answer that, I have a question of my own. Was Trainwreck there?” I could practically hear her grin through the phone.

I wasn’t in the mood for this, but answering was easier than refusing and having to dwell on my surroundings. “Yes.”

“So you’d say my intel was helpful?”

“Yes. What’s the point of this?” I asked.

I turned my attention back to my minions. No one was in the alley on the other side of my shapeshifted minion, which meant I could technically make a break for it. But the flying eye I had watching Aegis showed that they were still hunting for me. On one of his passes he spotted one of my decoy savages again. By now PRT troopers had caught up to it, spraying it with a yellowish foam that trapped it in place. I didn’t dismiss it. Any person they had focused on watching or containing it was a person who wasn’t out looking for me. From my distance sense to my other savage, I could tell it was still running.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to have a more permanent business relationship.” Tattletale said.

I nearly hung up the phone by impulse. “What?” I said, half in disbelief and half in annoyance.

“Hear me out.” Tattletale said hurriedly. “I provide you intel. Gang storehouses, transports, cape info, you name it. No strings attached, for you to do with as you please.”

I opened my mouth to reply, shut it again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was a villain, and yet she was trying to make a deal with me. I had to admire her sheer brazenness, especially with how she’d come to meet me in the Trainyard.

She kept talking. “Hell, I’ll even agree to some extra restrictions or stipulations, just for you.”

“Why?” I finally found something to say. “Why would you help me? You know I’m a hero.”

“Would you believe it’s because it’s the right thing to do?” she said.

“Ha ha.” I replied without humor. “Not one bit. Is this your way of getting rid of your rivals? Feed me info for places and people you want gone, then swoop in and take their place?” It was a possibility I’d considered and dismissed earlier, but now I wasn’t so sure.

Tattletale scoffed. “Hardly. To start with, I’m a thief and a bit of an information broker, not a gangster. Trust me, the two have vastly different interests. More importantly, I just don’t like the gangs.”

That I could believe. No matter who you were, there was a gang in Brockton that would be shitty to you. Still not enough of a reason to trust her.

“But the main thing,” she said, “Is that I really don’t like the gang capes. Not just personally, though I don’t like them as people either, but professionally.”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t believe you. You have something else you’re getting out of it.”

“Then hang up.” She retorted.

I didn’t.

She hummed, and I heard rustling from the other end like she was switching hands to hold the phone. “Look, I said I’m a thief. I swipe jewelry from penthouses, steal art from museums, rob banks. Not actually that last one, the risk-reward on bank jobs is absolute garbage, but you get the point. What I do doesn’t hurt anyone. What the gangs do does.”

“What if you steal someone’s family heirlooms, or take the money they’re planning to use to pay for someone’s surgery?” I retorted. “You can’t say no one gets hurt just because you don’t stick around for the consequences.”

Tattletale groaned. “Look, I can say with all honesty I’ve never stolen anything that couldn’t be replaced and-or wasn’t insured. I can also say that I’ve never injured or killed anyone in the course of my jobs, which is more the point I was trying to make. The Merchants deal drugs, the ABB does human trafficking, the E88 are literal fucking Nazis!”

I stayed quiet. Through my flying eye I could see that the PRT’s search was wrapping up. They were loading the foamed savage into the back of a truck, while the other reached the edge of my power and vanished. From the flying eye following Aegis, I could tell they had stopped spreading out and were beginning to return to the truck. In a few minutes I could hang up on Tattletale get out of here. In the meantime, I listened.

“The whole cape thing is a joke, and I mean that in the best way. Adults running around in costumes, using fake names to fight or commit crime, it’s all a joke. It’s not supposed to be taken seriously, just a bunch of people running around and blowing off steam using fun-as-fuck superpowers.”

“It’s not so fun for the people in the middle.” I argued. “The people who get robbed, or have a villain break into their home, or have their car blown up.”

“It’s not usually that bad.” She said. “Insurance covers damages, people get a fun story to tell at parties. Plus it boosts tourism, merchandise sales, property values for being a hotspot for cape activity. Cape crime is practically an entertainment industry.”

“You’re forgetting the ones who go too far. Lung, Hookwolf, Oni Lee-”

“No, I’m not,” she interrupted, “Because that’s the point I was getting at. The whole cape thing, it’s supposed to be harmless. Dramatic and scary, but ultimately something everyone walks away from at the end of the day. Its why we have the unwritten rules, why villains who haven’t gotten their three strikes get such lenient treatment. But fuckers like that don’t care. They ignore the rules in the game everyone else is playing, do their own thing, and people get hurt.

“So when I hear about someone trying to do something to fuck them up, someone without any support or backup? I take interest. Do you know how many independent heroes last more than a year? The ones who don’t get snapped up by other groups, quit, or just die? Short answer, not a lot.”

I shifted uncomfortably in the alcove. I’d seen enough about that in my research. There had been enough articles pointing out that a lot of that was because of Endbringer fights that I didn’t wholly believe the numbers, but they were still intimidating. It was part of why I still wanted to be a Ward, even after the incident with Aegis.

“So there you go. It’s a classic enemy-of-my-enemy.” Tattletale finished.

I thought for a moment. “I don’t believe you. Or at least I don’t believe what you’re saying, even if you believe it.”

“But?” she prompted.

I saw quiet a little bit longer. “But,” I said reluctantly, “You’re not entirely wrong.”

I let the silence hang again as I thought, Tattletale didn’t interrupt it, waiting patiently for me. I didn’t want to work with a villain, but working entirely on my own probably wouldn’t work out in the long term. Criminals cut deals with cops to serve as informants, right? This was basically the same thing. Besides, it would only be temporary.

“Alright.” I finally said. “I’ll take the deal.”

Even her inhale to start talking sounded smug. “But!” I said warningly. “This is going to come with rules. And if I get even a single hint that you’re using me for your own ends, it’s over. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Tattletale said. “I have the feeling this’ll be a great partnership.”

“I still don’t trust that you’re not going to try to recruit me with this.” I grumbled.

“You said you don’t want to join up with the black hats.” Tattletale responded. “I’m adaptable with my plans. A friendly acquaintance might not be as good as a friend, but I’m not going to turn it down. So, rules. Want to hammer out the details tomorrow night?”

“Sure. I’ll call you though.” If I was going to have an agreement with a villain, I certainly wasn’t going to let her decide everything, and I’d heard enough of Dad’s business talks to know the importance of being the one to decide the meeting time.

“No problem, just redial this number whenever you’re ready.” Her voice was way to cheerful for her to be giving me her phone number, so presumably it was a burner. “Talk to you later!”

The line went dead, leaving me in the dark to register the fact that the villain I’d just made a Faustian bargain with apparently ended her phone calls like dozens of teenage girls I heard at school. It brought back memories of long phone calls with Emma in middle school, though mostly because I hadn’t really had any phone calls since.

That wasn’t something I was willing to get into with myself, so I turned my attention to my flying eyes. The one with Aegis showed the PRT getting into their van to leave, Aegis and Kid Win flanking the van from above. The one in my alley showed no one around. The hunt was over and the coast was clear.

I didn’t feel like figuring out a new minion right now, so I just dismissed the shapeshifted wall and headed out towards the street. I had a cab to call, rules to make, two new minions to test, my next move as a cape to plan, and even some homework to do. It was a lot to consider this early in the morning on this little sleep.

But tonight I’d reclaimed my training area, made a deal to help me be more effective as a hero in the future, and put two villains behind bars. I realized that I was smiling as I prepared to go home. All in all, tonight had been a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Summon: Mimic (N medium aberration, CR 4)


	13. Interlude 2: Tattletale

“Last night, the Trainyard became the site of a violent struggle between Trainwreck, an independent villain, and Squealer, a villain affiliated with the Archers’ Bridge Merchants. The cause of their conflict is currently unknown but is suspected to be the result of a territory disagreement. The fight inflicted no civilian casualties and minimal property damage due to the secluded location, and both villains were shortly afterwards taken into custody by the PRT.”

The two images of Trainwreck and Squealer behind the news anchor, both recognizable as the pictures used for their page images on the PHO wiki, transitioned into photos of them being taken out of a PRT truck and ushered into a containment building. Squealer looked sullen and bedraggled, hanging her head, with bandages wrapped around her arm and torso to provide a crude sling for one of her arms with her hands cuffed together in front of her. Though of the two, Trainwreck was more notable.

The man had been stripped of his mechanical suit, revealing just how little of him was a man at all. From the neck down his body looked malformed, like a wax sculpture that had melted past the point of recognizability, just barely piled back up into a vaguely humanoid shape. There were bumps in his flesh that gave vague impressions of a collarbone or ribs, but overall he looked like little more than a fleshy blob. The most prominent feature standing out from his pale featureless flesh was a tattoo of an omega symbol turned on its side, positioned just below his throat. It looked like someone had given him a pair of jeans to try and preserve his dignity, but without legs to actually wear them with, he was left to try and hold them in front of where his crotch would be with a half-formed arm protruding free from the rest of his body, its fingers fused together in a fleshy mitten and the arm itself still melded with his torso from the elbow up. Without a matching limb to handcuff, he was being marched along at gunpoint, clearly furious at the whole situation.

“But while the PRT brought these two into custody, they were not the ones to capture them. Credit is instead being given to an anonymous cape who called the authorities after subduing Trainwreck. Squealer was found a short while later as the transport was bringing Trainwreck in for containment, apparently defeated by the same cape. Unlike Trainwreck, part of Squealer’s capture was recorded by a bystander, who then sent this video to us. The following footage may not be suitable for young viewers.”

The video of the news anchor at her desk and the images behind her switched to a new feed. The first sound was that of an explosion, though abrupt enough that it was clear the video had only picked up the last half. The source was an oddly shaped vehicle skidding to a stop, flames bursting out from its paneling. The angle showed the street and vehicle from above, presumably shot from the window of a higher floor.  It was shaky and slightly out of focus, clearly shot by an amateur, but the quality was good enough to show the important parts.

As the flare of light dyed down to a glow, the camera refocused and zoomed in on a woman on the ground beside it. She was easily recognizable as Squealer, wearing the same clothes as she had in the image of her being arrested. She was trying to scrabble away from the burning vehicle and put out the sparks that sprayed from the fire onto her, a task made all the more difficult by the fact that she clearly only had the use of one arm. The other clearly had something wrong with the shoulder and she visibly flinched whenever she accidentally put weight on it in her movements.

Squealer looked up from the ground in the direction her vehicle had come from and immediately began trying to push herself to her feet, an expression of fear crossing her face. The camera turned away from her in the direction she’d looked, briefly passing over a pair of figures moving quickly towards her before snapping back to focus on them.

They were, in a word, monstrous. Lit only by the light of the burning vehicle and a lone crappy streetlight behind them, their features were thrown in odd relief, emphasizing their inhuman features. Fanged mouths that bore little resemblance to any natural creature opened wide to allow long tongues to snake out. Oddly joined legs carried them forward in a swift bestial lope. Eyes sunken in their sockets glinted red in the dim light. They looked for all the world like creatures from a nightmare.

They caught up to Squealer in seconds as she tried to flee. One grabbed her by the wrist of her injured arm and pulled back, twisting her injured shoulder and making her legs buckle with pain. They were already grabbing her as soon as her escape attempt was stalled, seizing her in clawed hands and dragging her back the way they’d come. Squealer’s feet dragged along the ground as she kicked and fought to try and free herself, to no avail. Though her angry cursing had been faintly picked up by the camera, her expression was more than a little afraid. The creatures didn’t even react as they dragged her away from the light of the fire and into the dark. If not for the preceding news segment, no one watching would have thought of her as the villain of the situation.

The video cut back to the news anchor, who still bore a professionally neutral expression that made it impossible to tell what her reaction was to the video she’d just presented. “Shortly afterwards, the PRT released an official statement regarding the unknown cape, stating-”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Alec drawled as he muted the television. “Seriously, why are you showing us this? We’ve all seen this already.”

_Bored; lying, hasn’t seen it._

“I haven’t.” Rachel said from the other couch.

_Doesn’t care, only speaking up to object to Alec._

“You haven’t either.” Brian said. “I know you don’t bother with the news.”

_Stern tone, irritated, thinks Alec is being too flippant. Thinks Alec is being unprofessional._

“Okay, well everyone who cares has seen it already.” Alec said.

Rachel grunted, not objecting to that one. She had her feet kicked up on a table, more focused scratching Brutus behind the ears than the conversation. She hadn’t even looked at the tv since Lisa had turned it on.

“Why did you even record this anyways?” Alec continued. “Are you that much of a nerd that you’ve taken to recording the morning news? Besides, you have the inside scoop. So spill already.”

Lisa grinned and leaned forward. After having to wait for everyone to be available for a meeting, which mostly meant wheedling Alec into getting up before noon, she was eager to get to business. The fact that she got to show off what only she knew didn’t hurt her enthusiasm either. “Well, she was about what she sounded like from the boss’s tip. New to the cape game, not very confident, more than a little uncertain of her own power. Also, wary enough that she heard me out instead of attacking me”

“I still would have been more comfortable if you had taken someone with you.” Brian said.

_Irritated, concerned I didn’t think it through. Concerned that I could have gotten captured, left the group without a connection to the boss._

Lisa pushed that information to the back of her mind. She didn’t really need it right now, but it had been a while since she’d had cause to really use her power. Going too long without it always made her overcompensate when she did need it, which always ended in a migraine. Better to keep it on a trickle than shut it off completely.

Lisa waved a hand at him. “Well maybe if _somebody_ had a room at the loft instead of living downtown, he could have gotten there in time to back me up instead of showing up ten minutes after the meeting was over.”

“C’mon, she got out of it fine, right?” Alec said. “Who cares what she should have done, it’s done, doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Brian stressed, “in case this happens again. The next new cape might not be so friendly.”

“Eh, she wasn’t that friendly.” Lisa said. “The gifts helped soften the blow, but she didn’t like me much. There was a bit of a… stumbling block in our conversation.”

“And that was?” Brian prompted.

“She wants to be a hero.”

Alec scoffed and sagged back into the couch cushion he was reclining on. “Great, so she’s a lost cause. Great meeting everyone, perfect use of my morning. Where’s my controller?”

“Told you we didn’t need her.” Rachel said, crossing her arms.

“Not quite.” Lisa said, raising a finger. “I said wants to be, not is. You all saw this, right?”

She grabbed the tv remote and rewound it, ignoring Alec’s protests as he looked for his game controller, before pausing it on an image of the monsters that had grabbed Squealer. They looked positively hellish in the firelight, clawed hands outstretched to grab the fleeing Merchant.

“What does this look like to you?” Lisa asked.

“Not the friendliest power.” Brian said thoughtfully. “Do you think she’ll end up with a villain label because the public gets scared?”

“Not quite,” Lisa said, “It might be part of it, but she could probably still make it as an independent, whatever her power looked like. Her problems will come if she tries to join up with the Wards. There’s a reason you don’t see many mind-controlling Masters or particularly horrific Changers in the Protectorate, and a Nilbog-lite would face the same problems.”

Brian perked up warily. “Nilbog-lite? What is her power, exactly?”

_Wary; doesn’t want the Protectorate attention that would come to the city with a power like that. Considering trying to drive her out of the city._

Lisa shoved down her power again and waved her hand. “Relax, I was being dramatic. From what I saw, I’d peg her as a decently leveled Master with some Trump thrown in for flavor. She can make different minions with different powers, with some sort of restriction that stops her from just making a horde of monsters. But they’re definitely monsters, and that’s the sticking point.

“The Protectorate, and the Wards by extension, like the pretty, PR friendly powers that play well in the public eye. The ones who have powers that would get them a lot of uneasy looks tend to get out-of-the-way postings to quarantine sites or the nasty jobs no one likes to look at. With Wards it’s trickier, since the Youth Guard would object to doing that sort of thing to a minor. Most likely she’d get a public announcement and then sit on the sidelines until either they get an opportunity to cut her lose where the public never sees or an S-class threat comes calling. And from what I know of her, she would _not_ take that well, and even a hint of that showing up during the induction process would probably sour her to the whole thing.”

Brian nodded, making a noise of agreement. “So, you’re saying she’ll stay independent?”

“I’m saying either she’ll stay independent or she’ll become a Ward and in the process become someone we’ll never have to deal with unless we supremely piss off the Protectorate or their PR department becomes leagues more competent overnight.”

Brian hummed in thought. “Well, from the sound of it we’re in a pretty good position. If you’re right about the Wards-”

“I am.” Lisa interrupted.

“ _If_ you’re right,” Brian repeated, “Then she won’t be much of a problem to us if she joins them, and we don’t do enough day-to-day stuff for an independent hero to pin us down easy.”

“So she’s not just a lost cause, she’s almost totally irrelevant.” Alec snarked as he finally pulled his controller out from under a couch cushion and switched the tv over to his game console. “Remind me why we needed to have this meeting?”

Brian ignored him “But I’m guessing by the smug look on your face there’s more?” he asked Lisa.

“Got it in one!” Lisa replied with a grin. “Like I said, she wants to be a hero, but she isn’t one quite yet. Part of that’s lack of connections, part of it’s… mentality.”

She paused. Between her power and good old-fashioned cold reading, Lisa had been able to learn a lot about the unnamed cape in their short meeting. But that left her with the dilemma of how much to tell the others. If they were going to be outright enemies she’d have no remorse about telling all, but she had a lot more reservations given the pseudo-alliance she’d managed to arrange, especially since she still hoped to draw the cape into a full team membership. She couldn’t even trust the other Undersiders about the full extent of Rachel’s issues, so telling them about a stranger’s secrets? Alec would probably be too flippant about it to keep it a secret from the cape herself, Rachel would almost certainly try to use it as ammunition to drive her away from joining up, and Brian would probably tell her in an attempt to show sympathy if she ever did join. In any case, Lisa was certain the cape would take them knowing her problems without her being the one to tell them as a betrayal and sour any alliance, much less a chance at a membership.

So Lisa decided to stay quiet about the cape’s array of issues and stick to the most relevant parts. “Tip of the iceberg, her approach to Trainwreck. According to my power, going after him wasn’t motivated much by heroism.”

Alec perked up at that. “Really?”

_Interested; more interested than when he thought she was a potential ally. Amused by the idea of a villainous hero._

“Come on, don’t make us guess,” Brian said. “Why’d she do it?”

“I’m betting revenge,” Alec said, not looking away from the shooter he was starting up. “Someone gets Triggered, goes out on a quest against everyone involved, it’s a classic.”

“Actually, pretty close.” Lisa said. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure Trainwreck didn’t cause her Trigger, but he did wrong her somehow. Taking him down was a form of catharsis. Justified to hell and back in her head, but taking him down was still mostly for selfish reasons.”

“ _Great_ ,” Alec drawled, fingers tapping away at the controller, “So a wanna-be hero who beats up anyone who crosses her because she enjoys it.”

“Not quite,” Lisa said, “Best I could figure, it was more about proving something to herself. Either way, it was enough of a drive that she would have spent the night scouring the Trainyard for him if I hadn’t pointed her the right way.”

“Which brings us to point two of our meeting.” Brain said. “What exactly happened during that meeting?”

Lisa grinned at him, preemptively stifling her power. “Before I start, promise you won’t get mad.”

“Saying that just makes me more certain I’m going to be mad.” Brian said flatly.

Lisa laughed. “Fair enough. I made a deal with her to provide information about gangs, capes, basically whatever she asks about.”

Brian didn’t respond immediately, and even without her power Lisa could tell he wasn’t happy. “And what do you get out of this?” he eventually asked.

Lisa shrugged. “Honestly? Nothing. I promised her the info with no strings attached, and I intend to honor that.”

That was enough to make Alec glance away from his game, where he was mowing down computerized foes with almost contemptuous ease. “Seriously?” he asked incredulously. “I’m pretty sure it’s business 101 to never do anything for free, much less as a villain.”

Brian crossed his arms and fixed Lisa with a stare. “Explain to me exactly what your reasoning was for making a deal to help a hero.”

_Crossed arms; annoyed. Annoyed at me for doing this on my own. Annoyed at himself for not being there to have a say in what happened._

_Stance and posture militaristic; learned behavior from father. Attempting to assert authority. Doesn’t consciously know where he picked it up._

Lisa shoved her power down again. She liked Brian, or at least got along well with him, but when he got like this he always seemed more like Grue, mask or not.

“Like I said,” Lisa said, “She’s not quite a hero. I give her good odds for ending up as a full vigilante, especially given how her public debut’s gone, worse odds for becoming a full-fledged hero one way or another. In any case, she’s going to be out there beating the shit out of gangs. By helping her, I, and by extension, the Undersiders, become too useful for her to turn on.”

She grinned again. “Plus, a business arrangement could eventually grow into an alliance, or even recruitment.”

Lisa stayed quiet about her certainty that just being a consistently friendly face to the cape would probably make her more disposed to joining them, given what Lisa could pick up about her utter lack of strong social connections. Saying anything about the cape’s isolation would be the first step towards exploiting it, and Lisa had standards.

Really, exploiting it was the last thing she wanted to do. Lisa genuinely did want to help the cape. She’d been partially honest with what she’d said about her hatred of the gangs in her sales pitch. But the way the cape was on her own, just trying to do what she felt she needed to by any means… It remined Lisa of herself, in the time after she’d split from her family before joining the Undersiders, wandering and robbing because she just didn’t see any other way forward.

That time of her life had sucked, and the cape apparently had the double whammy of only Triggering a few weeks ago, and Lisa couldn’t help but feel for her. Not to mention the other issues she’d picked up on that might be her power overreaching or might be genuine. If they were real… well, she didn’t want to do nothing and learn she should have done something only after things went bad.

Rachel abruptly stood up, drawing Lisa and Brian’s attention. “We don’t need her.” She said bluntly.

Brian turned towards her, though his eyes flicked between her and Lisa.

Unsure how to approach. Afraid backing Rachel will make her challenges of authority bolder. Afraid backing me will be approval of my reckless decision.

“Maybe.” He said. “We’ll see how things go. She might not want to work with us, or she might not fit in with us.”

“I’m _telling_ you she won’t fit in.” Rachel growled, standing from the couch. Brutus perked up as his master stood. “We don’t need anyone else in the group.”

“We’ve had this discussion before.” Brian said, meeting her gaze with a glare of his own. “We, as a group, decided that we wanted Spitfire on the team. And then _you_ decided to scare her off rather than go along with what we’d decided.”

“Fuck off!” Rachel spat. “She wouldn’t have lasted anyways.”

“Well we’ll never know now, will we?” Brian said. “It doesn’t matter anyways. You don’t get to just go against the group like that.”

“Technically, didn’t Lisa do just that by making that deal without asking us?” Alec piped up.

Brain made a noise of annoyance, but didn’t break eye contact with Rachel. “Not helping.”

The stare-down continued in silence a few seconds more. Rachel broke first, sitting back down in a huff.

“Let’s put it to a vote then.” Brian said. “Lisa, you’re obviously in favor of the agreement. Alec?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, why not. If there’s a monster maker running around, I’d rather she’s on our side.”

Brain nodded. “Alright then. I still don’t entirely like it, but we might as well work with it.”

“Sounds like it’s three to one in my favor.” Lisa said cheerfully, “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Rachel made an angry noise of disagreement but didn’t speak up again. Her dogs picked up on her attitude anyways, shifting out of their relaxed positions as if getting ready to move.

“We’ll see.” Brain sighed. “So, what are the specifics of your deal?”

Lisa shrugged. “Don’t know yet. She’s calling tonight so we can hammer out the particulars. My guess is some rules like only meeting over the phone or her getting to pick the specific topic I give her info on, typical paranoid stuff to make sure we can’t ambush her or manipulate her into taking out our rivals.”

“Could we?” Alec asked curiously. “Give her info so she takes out Kaiser or Lung so we don’t have to worry about them?”

Lisa shrugged again. “Could I cherry pick the intel I give her to guide her on a specific course? Even with whatever restrictions she gives me, probably. Could I do it in a way she wouldn’t realize? That would depend on her being stupid, and I wouldn’t say that’s a smart bet.”

“Speaking of intel,” Brian said, “I assume you’ll be getting at least the basics from the boss?”

“Yeah,” Lisa replied, “I was planning to call him right after this and hash it out. And before you ask, no, this shouldn’t cost us anything. He has some side projects he’s working on that he’s willing to pay me to help with, I’ll just pick those up and take a pay cut there in exchange for intel on the gangs’ activities.”

“So we’re done here until you get those phone calls done?” Brian asked.

Lisa nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Brian’s body language changed almost immediately, going from a business-oriented villain boss to a teenager in a second. “Awesome. Hey, Alec, tag me in.” He said, grabbing another game controller from by the tv and dropping onto the couch beside him.

Rachel was already up and storming down the stairs, her dogs following close behind. It didn’t take a Thinker power to realize she’d wanted to leave some time ago, but hadn’t been willing to lose her chance to object.

Lisa left them to it and headed to her room. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling a box out from under her bed. Flipping the lid open, she revealed a case full of organized rows of SIM cards. Most were unused, but a minor use of her power helped Lisa find the one she wanted mixed in with the others. She pulled it out of the case, removed her phone’s current SIM card, and slotted the replacement in before making a call.

While it rang, Lisa opened the gates of her power again. Dealing with the other Undersiders was a much different matter than talking with the boss, and she wanted every advantage she could get.

It only rang twice before he picked up. “Tattletale.” The voice of Coil said through the phone, faintly tinny. “You have something about the new cape.”

_Statement, not a question. Doesn’t know I know something; demanding I know something._

_Poor quality of audio due to-_

She shut her power off before it could get off track, refocused on the conversation rather than the medium. “Hey boss,” she said, putting on a grin even though he couldn’t see her, “Yeah, I talked with our mystery cape. Thanks for the info, by the way, would have been a bitch to track her down otherwise.”

Coil made a quiet hum in response before speaking again. “And what have you learned?”

_Amused about providing information to me given my power._

_Impatient; wants to know more about the cape. Wants to know how to approach the cape._

“Well,” Lisa said, drawing out the word to be several syllables longer than it should. “Bad news and good news. Bad news, she wants to be one of the white hats.”

A short pause, almost too small to note, passed before Coil replied. “I see.” He said calmly. “And the good news?”

_Disappointed but not surprised. Already thinking of how to work the cape into existing plans. Already thinking of ways to kill the cape._

Lisa suppressed a shudder. Getting recruited at gunpoint tended to set a tone for an employer, but it still made her uneasy just how often her power picked up a casual but very genuine consideration of murder from Coil.

“Good news,” she said with well-practiced false cheer, “Is that I got to play the role of devil and make a deal with her. That’s most of why I’m calling now instead of last night, had to talk the others into letting me go through with it. She wants to hit the gangs, so I give her info on them that she can use, and in return the Undersiders won’t be in her crosshairs.”

“And I suppose you’ll be wanting me to give this information to you, so that you may past it on to her.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Coil didn’t reply immediately, though the phone picked up a creak as he adjusted his position in his set.

Lisa waited impatiently. Talking over the phone like this, there was only so much her power could tell her based off of silence. She could tell he was considering the pros and cons of the situation, though if she relied on her power to tell her more she’d get nothing but overextended guesses. So she suppressed it and waited for Coil to talk again.

“Very well,” Coil said at length, “I will provide you with general information on the gang’s activities, though requests for more specific information must be given several days in advance, and this _is_ going to cost a portion of your monthly salary.”

_Wants the cape under his influence in some way. Knows the cape can be useful somehow. Knows the cape’s power._

That part only surprised Lisa a little. He’d known where the cape was in the Trainyard to pass on directions, so of course he’d known her power after she used it there. She pushed her desire to work out the specifics of his network of spies and surveillance to the back of her mind and tried to focus on what her power was still telling her.

_Plans to censor information. Plans to avoid providing information that could lead to his own activities. Plans to avoid providing information that would help me single out his sources._

And there it was, the paranoia even against her that showed up eventually in almost every conversation they had.

“Speaking of that, I was thinking I could pick up some extra projects instead to cover the cost? I know you still have those files you want me to look over.”

Coil considered it for a moment. “Very well. Your consultation would be appreciated. We can talk exact percentages when the work is complete. You can start by sending me a dossier of everything you’ve learned about our new cape.”

_More pleased about my consultation than he wants to show. Wants material analyzed quickly. Intends analyzed data to serve as trump card._

_Intends to use my information on new cape against her if need arises._

“Whatever you say, boss! Though I do have one more request.”

“Yes?”

“Can I get a raise if I manage to get her to join up?”

“…Perhaps.” Coil said before hanging up. Short and brisk, but still more of a response than she’d expected.

_Genuinely considered the request._

A _lot_ more of a response.

Lisa flopped down onto her bed with a groan. Coil, the Undersiders, the cape herself. Five different people, all with different wants and goals, and she had to find a way to convince all of them that the best thing to do is have the new cape join up with the Undersiders. Well, four people. She just needed to convince the majority of the Undersiders, so she could afford to write off Rachel’s opinion.

How to do it? Coil would probably be on board for the sake of the Undersiders becoming more effective minions. The overhead of funding another member for the team probably wouldn’t dissuade him, he’d never shied away at payment before. On the other hand, if she proved too effective on her own, he might want her to stay independent and unassociated. Lisa found herself hoping the cape avoided any more high-profile targets unless the possibility of recruitment was settled one way or the other.

Brian would probably be on board with having another member, especially one who could provide them with more muscle. Rachel wouldn’t be convinced to change her mind through words alone, which meant the cape would have to join before Rachel came around to her. And that left Alec the deciding vote between a tie and agreement. Alec had backed her up today, but out of the three of them, he would be the most likely to change his mind. She’d have to make sure the idea stayed interesting and practical enough to hold his interests without problems on the cape’s part that would dissuade him, or Brian for that matter.

The cape herself would be the trickiest part. As it stood, Lisa was fairly certain that simply helping her out and not being an utter shitheel in the process would be enough to start a good relationship. It was almost a good thing that all the major groups in the city were so terrible, otherwise one of them would certainly be able to capitalize on the cape’s need to belong. From there it was a matter of building up a relationship, with a delicate balance of providing enough support and general friendliness to matter without her overreacting and dropping the bargain, or worse, lashing out. Joining the Undersiders really would be for her own good, it was just a matter of putting her in a position to realize it.

Further complicating things was the time constraint. Sooner or later, the Wards would manage to put together a meeting with her or she’d get enough confidence to seek them out herself. Lisa had to get her to a point where she’d be open to a more permanent partnership and put forth the offer before either happened, or else the window of opportunity would close.

There was always the possibility of a fourth group in the form of the Wards, Protectorate, and PRT. Pull the right strings, throw the right stones through the right windows, and she could create a situation where a Wards membership wasn’t on the table for the cape in any form that would possibly appeal to her, if at all. Lisa dropped that idea almost as soon as she had it. If it ever came out that she’d manipulated the system, she could kiss any hope of being so much as friendly acquaintances with the cape goodbye. No, if she was going to do this, it would have to be legitimate, or at least as legitimate as she could be given her profession.

Multiple sides, conflicting desires, and a whole lot of outside factors, all to get one person on the team. It would be tricky without a doubt, with a lot of potential for things to go very wrong. Still, Lisa realized she was smiling. Whatever else this all ended up being, it certainly wouldn’t be boring.


	14. Snarl 3.1

The building had been part of a factory once. Most of it was dominated by large rooms that had once held the machines of industry, which had since been reduced to irregular bolts and beams protruding from the floor after the machines themselves had been stripped for parts. The other portion was less than a quarter of the building’s total size, presumably where the rooms for managing the business side of things once were. If they still held any of their old purpose, it was now for a much different kind of product than whatever the factory had once made.

I was more interested in the larger rooms. The windows that lined the walls, once made to give the workers light, provided excellent positions for my flying eyes to look in. Or my eye-spies, as I’d taken to calling them, though I wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it to anyone.

The factory rooms had clearly been taken over. Furniture had been set up in the irregular spaces it could be fit, couches, chairs, and tables arranged in bunches. Some were grouped around TVs or heaters hooked up to portable generators. Brockton Bay had always had mild winters and spring was fast approaching, so I assumed they were running more out of habit than necessity.

Not that it really mattered why. I just cared that it kept my targets grouped up. There were over a dozen people were in the derelict factory that I could see, possibly with more in the business area. They were mostly men, all white, and nearly every one of them had a tattoo of some kind that incorporated a swastika, a triple E, or the acronym of their gang. Seeing even one would have been enough to peg them as members of Empire Eighty-Eight, the most outright shitty gang in the Bay.

I watched them through the windows, or at least my eye-spies were. Most were lounging on stuffed furniture as close to the heaters as they could get without burning themselves, or else watching something on the TV with the kind of invested look that made me think it was showing a sports game or something about one of their capes.

Only two of their number were actually guarding their charge. A pair of trucks sat in what was once the loading dock, parked beside a pile of wooden crates. Inside of those, according to Tattletale’s intel and my own inspection, were automatic weapons being ferried through Brockton Bay as part of the E88’s arms trade.

One guard leaned against the creates, casting irritated glances over her shoulder to the others relaxing and warm around a TV. The other paced a walkway over the door from the loading dock to the factory room, out of sight from the gangsters in the other room. Both shivered occasionally, the cracked-open door out of the factory letting in a draft of the air outside, while their lack of activity and what I presumed to be their long shift exacerbated the cold.

Or at least that had been the situation fifteen minutes ago. The one on the walkway had been the first to go. His position meant he would have seen if the gangster on the floor was taken down first, so I had no other choice. With an eye-spy slipped through the crack of the door and perched up among the rafters, I’d kept watch on the movements of both gangsters, tracking their sight lines to move a savage in without being noticed. Finding a good opportunity for it to climb up to the walkway and sneak up behind him had been trickier, but one chokehold later and he was down.

The other had been easy by comparison. Another savage slipped in during one of her frequent glances to the other room, closed the distance during the next, and she soon joined her compatriot. The two were just outside the door into the loading bay now, tied back to back and gagged with the elastic cords they’d used to secure the crates together. They were awake and clearly unhappy, but I’d taken the precaution of tying their ankles all together so they couldn’t get up and had a savage rifle through their pockets to make sure they didn’t have any knives or tools to cut their way out.. They wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Two savages now crouched by the door from the loading dock into the factory proper. One held a length of rebar as long as my arm, the other had short lengths of chain wrapped around its fists as improvised brass knuckles. Both weapons had been scavenged from the Trainyard along with a number of others, all for the specific purpose of making sure I could send my savages in armed instead of scavenging on the spot or relying on their fangs and claws. And against the numbers they were looking at, I was glad for it.

I sent them in. With one eye-spy providing an overhead perspective on the factory floor, another serving as overwatch for myself to ensure I wouldn’t be caught off guard by a cape that happened to come across my hiding place, and a shifter busy with another duty, they were the entire assault.

The first group was close enough to the door to be caught off guard by the approach. The length of rebar slammed into the gut of the first gangster, doubling him over and leaving him vulnerable as it grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the hard concrete floor. The other brought a chain-wrapped fist around in a haymaker to the jaw of another gangster, sending him sprawling over the side of his chair.

The others in the group were reacting, so I stalled their wholesale offense by having the one with the chains grab the TV they’d been watching and hurl it at the two closest together. The cables on the back of the TV caught for a moment before being pulled out by the momentum of the throw, but it stalled it enough that it caught the two around their stomach instead of their chests or heads. They fumbled, caught between not wanting to break the TV by letting it fall and getting it out of their way so they could fight back.

They chose too slow. In their distraction the savage with the rebar had already subdued another gangster and the one with the chains was stepping on the table the TV had been on to lunge at them. It tackled one back onto the couch, lashing out with its legs as it fell to kick the other and knock her down as well. The three were a tangle of limbs, striking out with fists, elbows, knees, foreheads, whatever body part was best positioned to try and hit an opponent. Though that wasn’t strictly the case with my savage. It didn’t bite or use its claws, as per my orders.

I had enough practice with them by know to know how they acted in a fight, and subsequently I knew how much I had to micromanage them with commands. In a fight like this, against unpowered gangsters, they were competent enough on their own. For the most part my orders were restrictions and conditions places on the basic “attack” command I’d given them as they entered the factory. No biting, no clawing, nothing that might leave someone with serious bleeding, no hits to the spine or throat, nor to the head in a way that might damage the brain. It was the closest thing I could get to ensuring no one would walk away from these fights too injured without robbing them of all ability to act with competence.

As the chain savage wrestled with the two gangsters on the floor, the one with the rebar sent another gangster to the ground curling up in fetal position to shield himself from the blows that rained down on his chest and shoulders. Through my eye-spy I could see the last gangster of the immediate group moving in from behind, a glint of metal in his hand I took to be a knife.

A quick order to the savage had it spin around, swinging the rebar in the same moment to catch the gangster in the hand and sent the knife skittering across the floor before it was even in a position to see him. As he staggered back, clutching his hand, I had the savage step up and knee him in the crotch, essentially taking him out of the fight. Behind it, the chain savage clambered to its feet. The gangsters it had been wrestling with were groaning on the ground, though the savage seemed a bit worse for the wear by the slight stiffness of its movements.

By now, the other gangsters were moving towards the fight. From my eye-spy, I could see they’d split into groups. Two were attempting to flank my savages, while a pair of gangsters hung back. I couldn’t hear what was being said, at least not now, but none of the other gangsters seemed upset with them so I assumed they weren’t cowards. The more likely possibility was that they had guns.

A less than ideal possibility in a room this large. My savages were tough, but not much tougher than a particularly fit human. And unlike a human they’d vanish entirely if they took too much damage. A few bullets here, in an environment without much cover, would be enough to wipe them out.

I had to keep the pressure up. I directed the chain savage to grab the fallen TV and spin to build up momentum, releasing it to hurl the appliance towards one of the flanking groups. The group scattered to avoid the projectile as it crashed down, sending broken plastic and glass bouncing across the floor.

As soon as the savage had released it I directed the savages to charge the other group while they were distracted and complacent, believing the attacking savages to be directed towards the other group. Through the eye-spy I saw one of the gangsters hanging back raise a handgun, firing at one of the savages. He missed and the savages continued on, giving him no chance to shoot again before they were in the midst of his own allies.

The other group realized they weren’t under attack, but after a brief moment of hesitation, they ran towards the loading docks instead of towards the savages. Maybe they were going to get the weapons they were guarding, or intended to flee in the trucks. It didn’t matter either way.

That left me with the problem of the remaining gangsters. I’d caught the first group by surprise, but these gangsters were armed and ready. On of them grabbed his baseball bat by either end and got it around the chain savage’s throat from behind, pulling back to get it off balance and allowing one of the other gangsters to drive a knife into its stomach.

Whatever sense of pain my savages could feel was overruled by my orders, as it continued to fight on regardless of the injuries it was sustaining. It thrashed around to try and dislodge the gangster holding it in place, driving its elbows backwards and lashing out at the knife wielding gangster whenever he approached. As a result, it hadn’t suffered another gut wound but it now sported numerous bleeding gashes along its arms. It was concerning. Durable and incapable of pain they may have been, but I knew from experience that they could be whittled down without a single decisive blow, and it was taking enough wounds that I was concerned it might vanish and leave me missing half my attacking forces.

The other one was doing better. It only faced one gangster armed with a knife, and the superior reach of its rebar allowed it to quickly strike her legs out from under her and batter her down. With her down, I directed the rebar savage to turn towards the knife wielding gangster.

It was too late. By then the gangster had overcome his reluctance to be struck by chain-wrapped firsts and powered forward to drive the knife up into the savage’s throat. But as fast as he was to strike, my reaction was faster. I dismissed the chain savage before the knife could penetrate enough to kill it, leaving the two gangsters off balance with the sudden disappearance of their opponent and one of them falling forward into the other in his effort to avoid stabbing his friend in the face.

I was already summoning a new savage almost before I reabsorbed the energy from the one I’d dismissed. I grabbed a crowbar from the duffel bag beside me and handed it to the savage as it formed, ordering it forward immediately with the same orders I’d given the other two. It swung itself over the edge of the roof, grabbing a thin metal column running parallel to the wall of the building and sliding down it like a fireman’s pole before running towards the factory a half block away.

In the factory, the rebar savage got to the gangsters just as they stumbled into one another. A quick blow with the metal bar took the knife wielder in the knee and sent him toppling to the ground, with follow-up strike hitting him in the wrist and disarming him. Only the gangster with the baseball bat was left standing in the immediate group they’d been fighting. Simply ordering the savage to take him down as well would have worked as he regained his footing from his friend collapsing onto and then away from him, but that would raise another problem. As soon as he was removed from the equation, the gunmen would have a clear shot at my savage.

It was going to get shot anyways, so I decided on the course of action I figured would surprise them the most. Rather than attack the last gangster, I ordered the savage to shove him to the side and charge the gunmen. It took all the gangsters a moment to realize it had switched targets, enough for my savage to close half the distance between them.

It wasn’t quite in range to hit them with its rebar club before they opened fire. Abandoning the hopes of a good melee hit, I directed it to throw its length of rebar. The bullets tore into my savage as the rebar left its hand and it collapsed into nothingness. A second later the rebar hit its target. Spinning end over end, it hit one of the gunmen in the face and shoulder. He staggered back, dropping his gun to clutch at his face.

I summoned another savage and armed it with a monkey wrench before sending it on its way. My only minion at the factory now was the eye-spy watching the factory floor, leaving me blind to the approach of my savages. I sighed quietly. I would have preferred using another eye-spy to monitor them and adjust their orders, but all my summons were currently busy, so I didn’t have a lot of options.

I seized on my connections to the two savages and fully embraced them. Immediately I was hit by a barrage of input as I was hooked into my minions’ senses. It had taken me two weeks to figure out this trick, then another week and a half to practice with it enough that I could stand to use it for more than a few seconds at a time. So while feeling the full sensory input of a different body just as keenly as I did that of my own had initially sent me into a brief identity crisis, now it was just unsettling.

Further complicating things was that the input wasn’t neatly divided by senses, but bundled up into a single ur-sense I had to focus on to divide back up. If they heard a gun fire or saw a knife I’d know it, but I had to focus to tell which sense that information was coming from, and issue that had screwed me over more than once when giving quick commands was a priority. The eye-spies were actually the only ones interpreting the input was easy for, which I chalked up to their always-one sight-sharing giving be a point of reference to decrypt the rest.

In any case it was useful enough now. The first savage I’d sent out was nearly to the factory, with the bound gangsters outside the loading bay doors in sight. The other savage wasn’t far behind. That was good, the sooner my savages could attack again, the less time the gangsters would have to prepare themselves. Turning my attention to my eye-spy, the ones in the factory proper were rallying. Of the nine gangsters my savages had downed, two had gotten back up, with the rest still squirming in pain or clutching their injuries on the ground. The five in the factory plus the four in the garage made another nine I’d have to deal with before I could call this in to the police.

The ones in the factory made things easier by not moving to meet up with the other group and instead helping their injured fellows to their feet, trying to rally those who hadn’t already risen. It was tighter camaraderie than I’d ever seen with the Merchants I usually attacked, who tended to cut and run when things looked bad for them, abandoning their supposed allies in the process. Whether or not the E88 would be the same in the end remained to be seen.

My second savage caught up with the first, which I’d stopped at the entrance to the loading bay. I directed the first to peek around the door and scope out the room.

The four gangsters were all there, with three opening crates of automatic weapons and the fourth trying to start one of the vans. Both were futile efforts. After taking out the guards in the loading bay, I’d dismissed the savages and sent out a pair of beetleings. I’d had them go through every crate, breaking apart every weapon, so that even if these gangsters got away their cargo would be ruined.

The vans were similarly trashed, though they didn’t look it. After trashing a good half a dozen getaway cars, I’d picked up on a pattern. If a vehicle was obviously wrecked, people would just abandon it and flee on foot. But when I made sure to keep the damage hidden so that it seemed from a glance to be perfectly functional, people would waste their time trying to start it up instead of just running away, often up until my savages dragged them out of the car. Ever since, I’d made sure my beetleings didn’t leave any outward signs of their sabotage, and tonight it was paying off again.

I sent my savages in, directing them to sneak around to the side to keep the van between themselves and the gangsters. The attempted driver was the first to notice their presence as I had a savage pull him out of the door he’d left open and slam his face into the side of the truck. The other got around the back end and charged the gangsters at the crates.

I tried not to focus too much on what it was doing. It would be disorienting enough pulling back from their senses once this was done, I could afford to let them operate without too much direct influence from me.

As invested as they were in the useless guns, the gangsters wasted precious seconds trying to shoot my savage instead of switching to whatever other weapons they had. It was enough time for my savage to bodily slam one of them into a crate hard enough to crack the wood. They were dropping the guns and pulling out knives by the time my savage had pulled away from their groaning comrade, but my other savage had joined in by then.

The ensuing attack didn’t last long, helped along by my subtle encouragement to attack more viciously rather than give the gangsters a chance to attack. One of them still managed to dish out a cut across the arm of the savage with the wrench. Half a block away I winched and clutched my own arm at the phantom pain. The downside to accessing all their senses was that I got _everything_ without any way to filter or dampen it without shutting it out entirely. It was enough of a factor that I made sure I pulled back out of the connection before sending them in to attack the gangsters with the guns.

It was disorienting going from the sensory input of three bodies back to just one, even with the input of my two eye-spies that was still pouring into my mind. The sensation passed quickly and I settled back into watching the factory fight through my eye-spy.

My decision proved to be the right one as one of my savages got shot within a second of emerging into the factory. I created a new one as it died, directing the remaining savage in its attack. It managed to bring down one of the gangsters with a solid blow to the ribs and injure another before the remained gangsters managed to gang up on it, dragging it to the ground to pummel and stab.

I dismissed it and summoned another. The gangsters got less than thirty seconds of respite before the savage I’d made to replace the shot one barreled into the room and clubbed one of them with a baseball bat. That one got shot and killed too, but it bloodied their noses and occupied them long enough for the next savage to arrive, even as I made another.

They might have had a numerical advantage, but I could simply replace my savages each time they were killed. And where the gangsters were growing weary and battered from the successive attacks, each savage I made was in peak condition.

The next savage brought down both the remaining gangsters who fought in melee, leaving only the two gunmen who promptly shot it dead. I held back the next savage as my other replacement approached, watching the gunmen through my eye-spy.

Maybe they were running low on bullets, maybe they were just on edge because they were the only ones left, but they broke. The gunmen backed hurriedly away from the doors leading to the loading bay where my savages had been entering from, keeping their guns trained on it. Tracking their movements from above, I had my savages follow them from outside, one on either side of the building, ducking low so as not to be seen through the windows.

They moved over to one of the large windows lining the room, still watching the door to the loading bay. One turned away long enough to shoot out the window before attempting to climb outside through it.

He noticed the savage too late. Standing to the side of the window outside, I had it grab him and drag him the rest of the way out, slamming him to the ground as it climbed atop him to pin him down with its weight, one clawed hand wrenching his gun arm to the side until he dropped it.

Satisfied that the one gunman was in check, I adjusted the eye-spy to watch the sole remaining gangster. He was backpedaling away from the window, and his expression and the movements of his mouth gave me the impression he was screaming something, though I wasn’t willing to tap the savage’s senses just to hear what it was. He was also raising the gun to point at the savage, which just wouldn’t do. Not only would he free his friend if he shot the savage, he also ran the risk of missing and hitting his friend.

To distract him, I had my other savage throw a rock through a window. He whirled around, bringing up the gun to point in that direction. That was good, but now I was faced with the issue of how to take him down. If the savage from that side tried to attack, it would be gunned down immediately, and the other would be letting his friend lose if it tried.

He was jumpy enough that a solution presented itself. I had the savage with his friend rise, dragging the gangster upright along with it before grabbing a rock of its own and smashing a window. He spun back with the gun, hesitating this time as he registered the danger of trying to shoot my savage with his friend in the way. It was a good enough distraction for the next order.

I sent my savage on the other side vaulting up through the open window and charging him. By the time he realized something was off and tried to turn, it was upon him. He was tackled to the ground, one arm awkwardly twisted beneath him while his gun arm was splayed out to the side. He struggled, but having my savage knee him hard in the side a few times was enough to make him stop and drop the gun. And just like that, the fight was over.

Cleaning up was comparatively easy. There were plenty of elastic cords from the crates, and all of the gangsters were either unconscious or too beat up to fight back against being restrained. Once that was done, I had one of my savages check their pockets for cell phones. I had one of my own, courtesy of Tattletale, but better to be safe than sorry when it came to being tracked, and using the bad guy’s own phones as my burner phones was the best option I had.

It found one pretty quickly, along with assorted wallets, packets of drugs, and other assorted items. I had it leave those, though I did have it take the cash from the wallets. I needed to get money somehow, and getting it at the expense of literal Nazis wasn’t going to rob me of any sleep.

I had the savages move the gangsters into the loading dock and bring in the two from outside, slipping my eye-spy inside in the process to watch from the rafters, then had one of the savages leave with the cash and the phone. It brought them to the base of the building I was on and pressed them against the pole my savages had slid down to get to ground level.

The pole curled up and grabbed them before retracting towards the roof. Most of my shifter’s mass was up on the roof with me, camouflaged as a mass of cement clinging to the lip of the roof, with an extended tendril disguised as a pole to provide an easy means of reaching the ground.

Tendril retracted, I took the phone and cash. Counting out the bills to be about fifty bucks, I crammed them in my pocket before dialing the police. I had the procedure down by now, listing the situation and location in as few words as I could, hanging up as soon as they registered they understood, and generally giving them as little to work off of about me as possible. Once that was done, I had the shifter return it to the savage, who brought it back to the factory. If that phone turned out to have critical information on it, I didn’t want to remove it from the crime scene.

I gave the factory one last once-over. Seventeen tied up E88 thugs, an eye-spy in the rafters to watch them until the cops showed, and a pair of savages perched atop a van like gargoyles to give the gangsters a more prominent reason to not try to escape. I was ready to head out.

I stood and stretched as I commanded my shifter to move along the edge of the roof towards the gap I wanted. My jacket pulled a little tightly during the movement, a testament to my less-than stellar work at stitching it back up after I’d cut it open in a few places to check some lumps I thought might have been trackers. They hadn’t been, but I still felt mostly justified. Nothing wrong with a healthy dose of suspicion.

Though despite my suspicion, Tattletale hadn’t done anything to break the rules I’d set for our deal. I was always the one to contact her, she always gave me at least three options for targets, and she made sure to warn me about any potential cape conflicts I would want to avoid. If it weren’t for our rather off-putting first meeting, I wouldn’t really have had a reason to distrust her, even with the persistent knowledge that she was a villain. Dislike, sure, but not distrust.

At the edge of the building, the shifter took a new shape on my command, that of a tall column. As soon as it was formed and solid, I gave it its next order and it tipped over the edge. The top of the column hit the lip of the rooftop on the other edge, forming a precarious bridge. Or at least it was precarious for a second. One it was touching both sides I ordered my shifter to reshape itself. It clamped onto both rooftops and flattened out, forming a bridge. It wasn’t very wide, only about a foot, but it was long and solid enough for me to walk across.

I crossed to the next rooftop and it detached from the roof I’d come from, gathering itself up on the roof before moving to the next gap. It moved slower than I did, but I was patient. Given its usefulness to hide me, I was loathe to reveal my shifter to anyone else, so I used it mainly to provide myself paths, bridges, ladders, and other means of passage. It really was a useful creature.

I found myself dwelling on that first meeting with Tattletale as I walked between rooftops. It had been a month ago by now. A month of hitting storehouses and stockpiles, first once or twice a week, then with increasing frequency until this week, where I’d gone out almost every night. Mostly I’d gone after the Merchants, but occasionally a prime target presented itself from the other gangs, a location thought hidden enough to neglect guards or separate from the main territory enough to me minimally protected. Tonight was the first time I’d gone after the E88, though I’d hit the ABB twice.

My efforts didn’t go unnoticed either. I wasn’t as big news as the likes of New Wave or the Wards, but the regional PHO forums definitely seemed interested in me. I’d thought my lack of a name or an in-person appearance on any recording or photo so far would be detrimental to any interest, but it only seemed to boost it. Maybe it was just because I was new and therefore hadn’t been discussed to death, but I was being described as some cross between an urban legend and a local cryptid.

‘The Bogeyman of Brockton Bay,’ they called me. I could understand the reasoning behind it. I made sure to keep my shifters and eye-spies out of sight, and I used my beetleings almost exclusively to sabotage things, which meant not many people saw them. As a result, most of the documented encounters with me were about my savages attacking out of the darkness to beat people into submission, being replaced in minutes or seconds if they were killed, with no signs of any source and no attempts at negotiation. Not the kind of public reputation I’d wanted setting out, but one I’d come to accept I’d be stuck with ever since getting a good look at my savages.

Though my public reputation did still seem to be up in the air. The forums conclusively agreed that I was somewhere between creepy and terrifying, but remained indecisive on everything else. Depending on who you asked, I was a vigilante, an up-and-coming villain, a black-ops Protectorate member, or an advance scout for Nilbog. Likewise, my power was speculated to be anything from a Case 53 with self-duplication powers to a minion-based Tinker to a mutation-granting Trump. I’d even seen one theory that I was multiple people, a Changer that became the monsters and a Master that duplicated the Changer.

The PRT wasn’t doing much to quell the rumor mill either. Apart from their initial press statement announcing me as an unaffiliated Master cape, they’d stayed quiet about me save a few non-committal answers to interview questions. It should have put me at ease that they weren’t screwing with my attempts to remain behind the scenes to my minions, but it just put me more on edge. I knew Aegis at least had seen me, and I couldn’t think of a reason he wouldn’t have passed that information on. From that the PRT probably knew the basics of my power and some about me as a person, and the fact they hadn’t announced that they knew anything of the sort made me feel like they were holding it over me the same way Emma kept my childhood secrets in reserve to reveal at choice times.

I tried to stamp down the thought as soon as I had it, less because it was unwarranted and more because I loathed connecting my cape and civilian lives in even such an intangible way as a passing thought. It wasn’t inaccurate though. Perhaps it was overly cynical to distrust an organization made of superheroes and government officials when they were doing something that benefitted me, but I didn’t trust anyone who seemed to be doing something helpful for no reason. Tattletale was at least up front about what she hoped to get out of our deals, and I had front row seats to my own mess of motivations when it came to being a hero, but the Protectorate and PRT were too large for the simple desire to do good to persist as the sole motivating factor. With that many people competing for position, advocating for any number of groups and causes, and generally creating a mass of internal maneuvering and politicking I didn’t even have the faintest clue about, as well as the public side of things, they had to be benefitting from their silence. I just wanted to know how.

My best guess was that they were doing what Tattletale had done, doing me a favor to try and butter me up. Hopefully I’d be able to ask them myself soon enough, though I didn’t expect to. My encounter with Aegis had put back my plans to join up with the Wards. Initially I’d hoped to prove myself useful enough with a weak power to be more than just the useless rookie, which my accomplishments would have done by now with the bonus of my discoveries about how much more versatile my power was than I’d originally thought.

But meeting and subsequently mauling Aegis moved the goalposts. With the temperament he’d shown me, I had no doubt he’d made sure to spin everything in the worst way for me. Apparently he hadn’t done it well enough for them to be willing to declare me a villain, but I’d still be playing catch-up to a month’s worth of whatever he chose to tell the PRT, the Protectorate, and the other Wards. It brought to mind quickly repressed thoughts of Winslow rumor mill of bullshit and insults. Aside from the social tiger pit that would be to try and join, I had to prove myself competent enough that when I came to join my accomplishments would make me worth taking on despite anything he may have said about me. On top of that, I was certain he was the type to hold a grudge, so I needed to secure myself enough as someone not to be messed with that he wouldn’t try something even once we were ostensibly on the same team.

It didn’t help that the past month had also given me plenty of time to second-guess myself and doubt my plans. Aside from my misgivings over a group that would allow someone like Aegis free reign, I still had reservations over putting myself in the hands of a government group whose competence I knew nothing about. I had enough of that with Winslow and chose this path to have the freedom to make up for it, a part of my life untainted by what I went through there. There were few things I could think of that I wouldn’t do to avoid making my cape life into the same hellhole of powerlessness and abuse.

I tried to reassure myself that I didn’t know what they were actually like, in part because I’d made no really effort to reach out yet. I’d focused on non-powered gangsters for the last month, almost certain wins I could use to experiment with my power and gain experience without too much risk. I’d escalated in frequency and difficulty of my targets, but the fact that I was still avoiding the powered gangsters meant I was dealing with the regular police instead of the PRT.

On that topic, I could see the police pulling up outside the factory through my eye-spy. I dismissed the savages, though I left the eye to watch until the police actually had the gangsters in their custody. At the same time I redirected my shifter. Rather than bridge the gap to the next building it affixed itself to the lip of the roof and extended a column of its body down, simultaneously extending short poles to either side. Within a few moments it took on the appearance of stone, creating a peg ladder I climbed down into an alley. T wouldn’t be able to follow me down without just falling off the roof, so I just dismissed it while I thought on my next move.

I could have always tried to find the Protectorate or Wards on one of their patrols, or just sought them out on the one or two occasions I’d spotted them through an eye-spy, but I always avoided them. I picked up enough from Dad’s work talk to know that opening negotiations between two groups was always highly dependent on the positions of power each held. If I wanted to reach out, I wanted it to be once I’d built up more reputation and on the heels of a decisive victory for me, one unmarred by the unfortunate level of violence I’d accidentally used with Squealer.

Still, as much as I tried to rationalize things, underneath my pragmatism was fear. Joining the Wards would be a big step. It would mean unmasking to them. It would mean telling dad. It would mean letting someone else control my cape life. It was an irrevocable step. If it turned out to be another Winslow, it wouldn’t be one I could get out of without every heroic cape in the city knowing my identity.

The fears were pervasive enough that only my continued desire to be a hero and my desire for greater resources that what I could scrounge from gangsters was enough to keep me focused on the Wards as a goal. But that still left me with the problem of building up a reputation, and the problem there was that I wasn’t doing much. Regardless of how some of the more enthusiastic forum members liked to play me up as some terror of the night, the reality was more in line with the skeptics who didn’t think one more vigilante could do much.

I’d made a dozen strikes over the past month, to no discernable effect. I begrudgingly had to admit that I couldn’t really expect more. A full Protectorate team, Wards team, and PRT division along with a family of independent heroes hadn’t wiped out crime over the course of years, and I’d only been active for a few weeks.

Tattletale could probably help with that. She’d given the impression that she knew which targets would most effectively disrupt the gangs, but I didn’t want to rely on her to that extent just yet. I wanted to try and stand on my own without too much outside help, however tempting it may be. Though it seemed the time would soon come to swallow my pride. Reputation would be nice, but I had to remind myself that the priority was getting rid of the gangs.

Besides, if reputation was what I wanted, I would have gone to the Endbringer fight two days ago. It had been a terrifying moment to hear the announcement of an Endbringer attack and realize that for the first time in my life I was included in the request for all parahumans to go and help. And then I didn’t. I had plenty of excuses for why. The attack was in Australia, it was the Simurgh, my minions would have been useless. It still didn’t make me feel any less guilty.

But that was in the past. I needed to concern myself with the present and future, and for the future to go well I needed to do more in the present. The best option I could see was to go after another of the Merchant’s capes. Or I could capture Trainwreck again.

That was a point of irritation every time I thought about it. Squealer was still in custody, but Trainwreck had been in custody for less than two weeks before breaking out again. After all the frustration he’d put me through, and the effort I’d put into taking him down, it annoyed me that the PRT had let him get away so easily. I’d considered tracking him down again as soon as I found out he’d escaped, but I’d seen the news after he was taken into custody. My sense of victory for taking him down had been significantly soured at the realization that I’d basically been destroying a man’s prosthetic limbs.

So a Merchant cape it would be. I checked my energy and found my pool just a little under half full. Even if it wasn’t enough to take down any cape I managed to find, it would be enough to at least bloody their nose.

I pulled out the phone Tattletale had given me and dialed her. It was the first time I’d called her twice in a night, and it rang enough that I got worried that she might not pick up.

After enough time that I nearly gave up, she answered the phone. “Bogeyman! How’s it going? Everything go alright?”

“I’m fine. Went well, shipment got cleared out.” I focused on what I was seeing through the eye-spy for a moment. “The police are loading up the last of them right now.”

“Cool, cool.” Her tone was as friendly as it ever was. Initially it had annoyed me, but after enough conversations with her I’d come to realize that it actually meant to be friendly. I didn’t know when over the past year and a half I’d started assuming that sort of tone was automatically concealing mockery, but I knew it was a bitter thought that the Trio had tainted my ability to even perceive friendship. If nothing else, at least my deal and the ensuing conversations with Tattletale had helped me realize it was a problem.

“I was just wondering since you usually only call once a night.” She continued. “I got worried that tis was going to be one of those calls from the movies where someone gets shot and calls someone for help as they bleed out in an alley. I’d hate to have something happen to my favorite vigilante.”

“Aren’t I the only vigilante in the city?” My reply was halfway between casual and inquisitive. Even I wasn’t certain if it was meant to be banter or a genuine probe for information. I hoped it was the latter. It would be a bit awkward, but better than becoming overly familiar with a villain.

She apparently took it as the former, because she laughed. “True, but I don’t think it would be that hard to find another tall, dark, and brooding cape somewhere out there. They probably wouldn’t come with their own entourage, though.”

I smiled at the joke. It would have been easy to just let her banter at me for a while, but it would also have been dangerous. I didn’t like turning the conversation back towards business, and I didn’t like how I didn’t like that. Against my initial judgement, Tattletale was growing on me. Not in the sense of being a friend, or even someone I could really trust, but as someone who was at least reliable.

She’s a villain, I had to remind myself, I can’t trust her. It was a mantra I’d been telling myself more and more over the last week as I talked to her more often. But she was also the first person besides Dad that I’d regularly talked to on amicable terms since my short-lived fair-weather friend last fall. And as much as I hated that and tried to consciously resist it, that still counted for something.

Fuck, I needed to talk to more people. I ran through my mental list of every cape in the city close to my age, and just like all the other times, couldn’t pick out any of them as being good option to reach out to. I really needed to move along my plan to join the Wards, which meant tonight was even more important.

“I’m calling for business.” I said. “I want to know where I can find a Merchant cape. Not Skidmark though, and preferably one who’s not with a big group.”

I heard her hum in thought, switching over to business mode. “Just a second.” I heard the faint rustling of papers, followed by the clack of a keyboard. “And just to be clear, since one of your rules is that I can’t push for you to go out more often than you want to or to go after capes, this is your plan? Not something you’re going to twist around and blame on me later?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright then. It’ll take me a minute to find what you want.” There was a moment of silence before she spoke up again. “So, you’re looking to step up your game. I’m curious, did one of those gangbangers do something that got to you? Or is this just the next step for you?”

I didn’t really want to answer the question, but I considered it anyways. It did seem to be the next step, escalating from gangsters to the powered members of the gang. Not the E88 or ABB, but still powers and still criminals. A more difficult step, but one I’d have to take sooner or later.

“I think-” I said before stopping myself. I hadn’t meant to speak, but I didn’t want to leave the sentence unfinished. “I think it’s just the natural progression. I won’t get anywhere if I just pick off the lowest members of a gang. I need to move up eventually.”

“Mmm.” She replied. “Move up where? In terms of breaking down the gang, in terms of reputation?”

I made sure to keep my mouth shut this time.

She kept talking anyways as keys continued to clack in the background. “Well, if it’s reputation, you know my group?”

“Yes.” I said curtly. The first thing I’d done as soon as I got to a computer the day after meeting Tattletale was to look her up. Her page on the wiki was disappointingly empty, so I’d made sure to check it almost daily ever since, in the hopes that someone would update it with more about her. It hadn’t yielded much, but about two weeks ago someone had changed her association block to mark her as a member of the Undersiders.

Checking out that page, which had been made the same day, had revealed them to be a small-time gang of thieves. Apparently they counted Grue as a member, as well as Hellhound, a nomadic independent villain who’d been bouncing between nearby cities for the past year before moving to Brockton Bay. Besides them and Tattletale, they had one other member helpfully listed as ‘Unnamed Villain.’ All in all, fairly minor players in the scheme of Brockton Bay, and exactly what Tattletale had claimed to be on that first night. What I didn’t know was why she was bringing them up in the context of my plans for the future.

“One of my teammates, Grue, he thinks in sort of the same way.” Tattletale said. “Reputation’s big for him, so there’s a lot of focus on balancing security and reputation, what puts us on the map versus what puts us at risk.”

I relaxed a little bit. She was just gossiping about her team. She was doing it in a vaguely uncomfortable way that felt like it was drawing comparisons between me and a B list villain for hire, but it was harmless. Interesting too, in a way. Everything I knew about villains I learned from the forums, their wiki pages, news articles, or, in very few cases, fighting them. It was odd hearing a villain casually discuss her teammate like this.

“Speaking of which, I was talking to him about you.” _That_ put me on guard again. We might have had an agreement, but hearing Tattletale casually mention talking about me with her villain teammates set of warning lights. Even if it was with the same air she’d just talked to me about Grue, it wasn’t something I was comfortable with.

“You want to escalate what you’re doing, right?” She continued. “Well, he and I were thinking that, if you were willing, you could come along on-”

“No!” I cut her off. “No no, no! We agreed on _rules_ , Tattletale, and the very first one is that _I do not work for you!_ The addendum to that is that if you try and recruit me, our agreement is _over_ , do you remember that?”

The question might have carried more weight at the beginning of the month. I’d grown used to our agreement, come to appreciate the convenience of skipping the process of tracking down gang stockpiles and hideouts to get right to taking them down. One night I’d called and Tattletale didn’t answer, which I’d found out later was because she and the Undersiders were robbing a tech firm at the time. I’d gone out on my own anyways, but I’d ended up just wandering the streets for a few hours, finding only a single wandering gangster nearly drugged out of his mind for my trouble. He’d barely been worth the effort, and I’d been embarrassed to call it in to the police after a string of successes with bringing down crowds of gangsters and finding weapons and drugs.

Could I cut ties with Tattletale and start from scratch? Yes. It would be hard, enough that I’d probably lose the progress I’d made against the Merchants over the past month well before I was anywhere near as effective as I was with Tattletale’s aid. Would I cut ties? If it came down to it, yes. But I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She’d reached out to me for a reason, and I hoped she’d see reason and take it back.

I started pacing in the alley. I was more than a little angry that she was breaking the rules like this. My other eye-spy was only watching an empty loading bay by now, so I called it back to me just to distract myself by watching the overhead view of the city as it flew. At the same time, I had the strange experience of watching myself pace back and forth from the bird’s-eye view of my other eye-spy.

 “I know, I know.” Tattletale said. Her voice remained calm in spite of my anger, and I was quickly reevaluating her tone on the scale between friendly and faux friendly. “If you don’t want to hear it, I won’t give you the pitch. I’ll drop it and move right on to telling you what you want to know. But before you choose whether or not to hear it, let me just say that I’m ninety-five percent sure that if you do hear it you’ll agree.”

I silently fumed. My anger abated a bit at her willingness to drop it, but the fact that she’d brought it up in the first place and her assertation that I’d be interested still rubbed me the wrong way. I was half tempted to just hang up on her and call it a night, and a part of me wanted to just break off our deal right then and there. But a part of me was curious about what she could possibly have planned that she thought would convince me to go along with whatever she had planned. There was no harm in hearing her out before denying her, right?

“What is it?” I said, my voice still tight with surpassed anger.

Tattletale had clearly been waiting for me to agree, because she started talking with the air of someone who’d planned everything they were going to say ahead of time. “Well first off, it’s not a recruitment. It’s just an offer for you to come along on one job, one time. Our standard practice as thieves involves avoiding witnesses and shutting off security systems, so you shouldn’t have to worry about anything that happens on the job getting linked back to you, and we’ve never had to deal with any heroes so far.”

I didn’t bother to reply. From the sound of it, she was just trying to preemptively counter any arguments I would throw at her proposal.

“As for the job itself, since you’d be coming on it, you would get to have a say every step of the way. You’d get to come to the planning meeting, speak up for or against any plans, basically all the perks of membership for a limited time. The job itself shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, about the same as one of your nightly outings. And upon the completion of the job you’d get a full fifth of the earnings, probably coming out to at least five thousand dollars.”

The amount of money she’d so casually mentioned caught my attention. Dad was still trying to pry payment out of the school for my hospital stay, that much money could at least ease that burden somewhat. But it wasn’t nearly enough to come close to persuading me.

I shook my head. “No, I’m still not-”

“But!” Tattletale interrupted, “That’s just what everyone on the team gets, and you’d be putting your neck out there as an outside hire. So to sweeten the pot, your payment would also come with three bonuses.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, thought she couldn’t see it. Presumably this was the part of the deal she thought would sway me. I considered cutting her off so she couldn’t finish the pitch. I couldn’t think of anything she could off that would change my mind, but what if she was right? Wouldn’t it be better if I avoided the temptation entirely by keeping myself ignorant.

But I was still curious and prepared to be insulted by what she thought my determination to be a hero was worth. I let her keep talking.

“Bonus one, my time. For half an hour, at no price, I will help you figure out how your power works.”

That did pique my interest. Her wiki page didn’t list a power, but by now I was certain that it was either some form of Thinker power or a Trump power that let her understand the power of others as either a primary or secondary function. In either case, her telling me about my power would mean trusting her to know that same information, if not more if she chose to withhold something. My trust for her didn’t run that deep, especially since my concerns over her power were the main reason I insisted we communicate only over the phone.

“I don’t need you help with my power.” I said.

I could practically hear the shrug she made. “That’s fine. Though you make different monsters, don’t you? Someday you might want some help figuring out how one of them works. Or you might want my help on something else. It’s your favor, your choice how to use it.”

Tattletale waited a second until it was clear I wasn’t going to respond, then kept talking. “Bonus two, we get you a costume. High quality, untraceable, and you get to design it.”

I looked down at the dyed jacket and jeans I was wearing. A costume didn’t really seem so important now that I’d locked down my tactics of avoiding the front lines. If I was doing things right, no one would even see me. Still, unnecessary as it would be, the idea of a real costume felt enticing, like the first step towards being an officially recognized cape.

“And I’d get it…” I asked against my better judgement.

“Before the job.” Tattletale replied. “You could wear it on the job, or only start using it afterwards if you want, give your current outfit one last hurrah.”

I made a noncommittal grunt. The things she was offering were nice, certainly things that I would have eagerly accepted if not for the strings attached. But none of them felt worth going along on a criminal mission. I could get by without that money, I was dong fine with what I currently knew about my power, I was comfortable with my current costume.

That left just the last bonus. With what I knew of her, Tattletale was probably saving the ‘best’ for last as a grand finale. If there was anything she was offering that she thought would convince me, it would be that last bonus.

“And the third?” I asked, hoping to rob it of some of its impact by interrupting her presentation.

“Oh, that’s easy.” She said in the tone I knew meant she was grinning on the other end of the phone. “Betray us.”

I stopped pacing. Over the course of the conversation I’d been annoyed, offended, and amused, but this was the first time I was really confused.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Betray us.” She repeated. “Sell us out to the Protectorate, call the cops to anticipate our robbery, whatever you can think of to put us in the hands of Johnny Law.”

I was at a loss for words for a moment. All my conversations with Tattletale had been focused on business, and they’d all given me the impression that she was smart. Arrogant and a bit too fond of screwing over the people she gave me directions too, but smart. The idea that she was offering me a deal that deliberately involved betraying her to the Protectorate was baffling.

“Why?” I asked eventually.

“You’ve read out wiki pages, right? Heroes usually have their pages restricted, stops the bad guys from knowing all their strengths and weaknesses, but the pages for the bad guys are always filled with as much detail as possible. So since there’s not much on the Undersiders, you know they don’t have much on us at all. Just telling the PRT about our powers and tactics would probably get you in good with them, much less if you actually managed to bring us down. We’re a new group, but Grue and Bitch already have some name recognition. You’d score yourself some major points.”

“No,” I interrupted, “Why are you offering for me to betray you? Why would you ask me along on a job where that’s a key factor in my participation?”

“Oh, honey.” Tattletale said. I could still hear the grin, but the friendly tone was a little less friendly now. Not quite mocking, but more self-assured. “You’re smart and you have a pretty good power. However you choose to go about betraying us, I’m sure you’ll do it well. But when it comes to betrayal and counter-betrayal, I’m confident I‘ll be a step ahead of you the whole way.”

I considered the offer, genuinely considered it for the first time. I hated that she had been right. This third bonus was far more enticing than anything else she’d offered. One way or another, if I took it I’d be losing Tattletale’s support. But if I did it right, I wouldn’t need it. Every article and forum pot I’d seen about the Undersiders said they were elusive and talked about how little was known about them. Of the two who were known before the group, one was a mercenary moderately well known in the area and the other wandered enough to be recognized across states. Taking them down would give me all the pull I needed to join the Wards on my own terms.

“Well?” Tattletale asked. “You come along on one job as a mercenary consultant, with plenty of steps to make sure your work with us won’t get linked to your hero identity, and in return you get help with your powers, a new costume, several thousand dollars in cash, and potentially all the reputation of taking down a villain group.”

I didn’t answer at first. The idea seemed tempting… But she was offering it for a reason, she’d even spelled out that she was confident she could outwit any attempt at betrayal. On top of that, I didn’t know enough about the ins and outs of cape dynamics to know for certain what would happen if I did this. Would I get flagged as a villain anyways? Would they send me to juvie instead of the Wards?

“Let me get back to you on that.” I said hesitantly. “I need to think it over first.”

“Sure, no rush.” Tattletale said. “We’ll always have jobs, you can get back with your answer whenever.”

I nodded, still a little bit out of it as my thoughts whirled. “Right. In the meantime, my request?”

“Of course! First, Mush was recently spotted at the border of the Docks and the Trainyard…”

I listened with half an ear before picking a target and hanging up. I was distracted by the warring ideas in my head of risks and benefits, weighing possibilities against certainties. I’d need more time than just tonight to think, and I’d need to research. I pulled out my notebook and pen as I walked, using an eye-spy to keep an eye on my path. I sketched out a two-column chart to lay out the pros and cons of Tattletale’s proposal with the intent to fill it out while my minions duked it out with Mush.

It was an hour and a half later before I collapsed into bed. Mush hadn’t been there, but a dozen Merchants were. By now they’d be in police lockup along with the E88 thugs from earlier tonight. The chart in my notebook was still as empty as when I’d sketched it.

The problem, I thought to myself as I drifted to sleep, was that I needed more information. Not only on the job, but on the cape politics surrounding it. I needed to know, if everything went wrong, what my options would be and what it meant for me. And for that, I needed to ask a professional.


	15. Snarl 3.2

On Thursday night I headed to the Docks. The route was a familiar one, one I’d taken plenty of times as a civilian and every night since Tattletale had raised her proposal. I still wasn’t very comfortable about it. When I went out as a cape, I usually stuck to the southern areas around my neighborhood or the fringes of the Docks proper, Merchant territory, while my current destination was firmly under ABB control.

I tugged on my power and found my reserve of energy responsive, a comforting weight compared to the potential hostility of the surroundings. It was nearly full, reduced only by the trio of eye-spies I’d summoned at the beginning of the trip and had circling over me, providing an excellent view of my surroundings. The month of operating as a cape had given me practice with my power, which included practice with control. As a result, I’d been able to lessen my daily routine of exhausting my energy pool before school. I still didn’t quite have it down to a point where I could avoid reducing it at all, but I had a good enough grasp on it that I could reduce it to a level that would recharge to full over the course of the day before I went out at night.

It wasn’t a perfect system. When Sophia got in a painful hit or Emma delivered a particularly cutting remark, I still felt my power rising up in response to my impulsive desires. But now I was able to stamp it back down and keep it under control. I’d been tempted to let it out on several of those occasions despite my newfound control, half out of spite and half out of curiosity whether it would create some new creature. It had produced minions to spy and conceal as I’d needed them, so why not something to verbally tear Emma down?

I’d talked myself out of it every time. My cape life and my civilian life would stay separate as much as I could keep them, and I had no intention of changing that. While I was at school I would be Taylor Hebert, powerless teenager, no matter how tempting it was to lash out at the Trio via minion, or even just send an eye-spy into the city so I could distract myself with the view during the worst of the bullying.

No, my cape life would only influence my civilian life when I became a Ward and got to transfer out of Winslow to Arcadia. The thought had sustained me enough that I hadn’t skipped school again. I just had to put up with things for a few weeks longer and then it would all be behind me.

Or perhaps only a few days longer, depending on how things went. The idea of turning a group of superpowered thieves over to the Protectorate and fast-tracking the lengthy process I’d envisioned was a tempting one, but also one I couldn’t be certain of. I was operating with what I knew from a few sparse wiki pages, forum posts, and word-of-mouth from Tattletale herself. Going to some planning meeting for the job she had in mind would inform me about the job itself, but I needed to know the context around it. Intel on the Undersiders would be helpful, but I needed to know if I would have options if I went along and everything went belly up. The skeleton I had of a plan for getting caught by heroes on a criminal enterprise would be to claim mercenary status and ask to join the Wards. It wouldn’t be a lie, Tattletale was essentially asking to buy my services for one job, but I needed to know how far that would carry me.

My options as far as finding those answers were limited. Asking the PRT or Protectorate was out of the question considering I was only entertaining the idea of doing the job as a way of accelerating my goal of having enough footing to talk to them in the first place. A professional lawyer would be equally as ludicrous given the prices they charged. So that left the only people with firsthand, professional experience with that sort of thing in the city. Faultline’s crew.

Which led me to Lord’s Street. Early in our arrangement, I’d asked Tattletale to list areas in the city I should avoid going to for one reason or another. The list had been short, more because the city was so full of gangs that few areas were worth noting as particularly dangerous than because the city was safe, but Lord’s Street had been one of those. She’d noted it because of the high density of ABB gangsters who frequented the area hoping to prey on shoppers, but she’d also made an offhand comment about Faultline’s crew operating somewhere nearby.

Which led me to my visit. “Somewhere nearby” was a wide area, but my power had a good range. Every night after Tattletale had made her proposal I’d come here and spent a few hours sweeping the area with my eye-spies, hoping to pick up some sign of Faultline or her crew. I hadn’t called Tattletale during that time either. It would have been so easy to let that streak continue and toss the phone away. I would have been perfectly justified too. She’d broken our deal after all, no reason to keep up our agreement. Depending on what I learned from Faultline, assuming I ever actually found her, it might still be in the cards.

But I didn’t. I’d weighed pragmatism against idealism and come very close to just throwing it out several times over the course of the week. But Tattletale was still a resource. Whatever else, she was reliable with her information and I could still make use of that if I turned down the proposal.

I tried not to think about the fact that she was also the only person my age who’d been even remotely friendly to me in the past few months. I’d been trying not to think about that a lot over the past few days as I debated the merits of finding assorted ways to sell out the Undersiders to the Protectorate. I hated that the first thing approaching friendship I had was a mutually beneficial business relationship, and I hated that I was in a position where I had to decided whether to betray that, even if she had invited it.

I shifted focus from that line of thought with the same thought I’d been using, that I still didn’t have enough information to decide one way or another. Hopefully I’d find Faultline soon. If I wanted to stay effective in my efforts against the Merchants, sisyphean as they seemed, I’d have to make another strike soon. Like it or not, the best way to do that would be with Tattletale’s help, and I refused to call her before I had an answer.

I arrived at Lord’s Street and continued the next step of my little ritual. Using an eye-spy to tell me when and where I could move without risking an encounter with any wandering gangsters, I headed to the short building at an intersection. One shifter-provided peg ladder later and I was atop the building with three eye-spies spiraling out to canvas the area. The shifter stayed with me to help me move between buildings down the street, with one eye-spy in overwatch to tell me when I could move between roofs without being spotted.

As with every night before, it was tedious. Considering Faultline worked with two Case 53s and a Shaker known for large distortions to the landscape, one would have thought it wouldn’t be so hard to track them down. It was to be expected though, one wouldn’t last long in a city with this many capes on either side if you were easy to find. I’d considered trying to find them through whatever means people used to hire them, but I didn’t exactly have an encrypted computer to make those searches on.

It was hours before I spotted him, within minutes of the time I usually called it a night. A morbidly obese man wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up, a stuffed convenience store bag held in one hand. With the hood up he might have successfully hidden himself from me, but my eye-spy saw his face clearly, the shadows of the hood and the night reduced to a tone of grey. His face was crusted with growths, ranging from the size of pinheads to thumbnails. I let my eye-spy sink lower in the air to get a better look, relying on its small size to hide it against the dark sky. He wasn’t wearing a mask, but he had the right build and seemingly the right aberrant features that I was sure it was Gregor the Snail, one of Faultline’s employees.

I kept tracking him with the eye-spy as I descended to ground level and began running to intersect his predicted path. It wasn’t that far, only two streets over. A month ago that would have tired me more, but my morning runs had helped get me into shape. For once, being stick thin with long, gangly limbs was in my favor, each step carrying me farther with less weight to push forward. I wasn’t anything near a track star, but I was optimistic about how much better I would get with time. Still, I stopped running a bit before I actually intersected the street he was on. I didn’t think it would make a good first impression if I was asking him a favor while still breathing heavily.

I waited in the mouth of an alley for him to approach, watching through an eye-spy until he was close enough for me. I steadied myself for a moment, then stepped out into the path of the mercenary.

“Gregor the Snail?” I asked.

He stopped and regarded me for a moment. It was odd being able to make out less of his face at a closer distance without the eye-spy’s night vision. It wasn’t just the darkness either, there was something off about his face. Whether or not seeing it in full would have put me at ease was something I couldn’t be certain of. Some of the descriptions I’d found for various Case 53s had been grotesque or nightmarish, and the pictures I’d seen of his mask fully covered his face. I settled on being glad for the darkness.

“That is me.” He replied, his voice carrying an accent I couldn’t pin down. “If this is an attempt to start a fight, I would ask you to reconsider. I do not wish to take part in a street brawl at this time of night.”

He raised his empty hand with the palm out in a nonthreatening gesture. I tensed anyways. I’d read enough about capes to know that the gesture wasn’t necessarily harmless. With parahumans, a pointed finger or an upraised palm could be akin to pointing a loaded gun. I didn’t miss that the gesture bought his palm up to face me, presumably so that if a fight broke out he wouldn’t have to waste time aiming before unleashing his power on me.

Not that I intended to fight. I suspected by his unperturbed tone that his request was more out of a desire to avoid a hassle than any real fear, which would have been reason enough to back down even if I hadn’t been planning for this to be peaceful from the start.

“No, I don’t want to fight.” I said.

Gregor made a noise that was half affirmation, half skepticism. “Some people, they think attacking a know cape will bring them reputation, renown.” I pointedly avoided responding as I thought about my ideas for the Undersiders and my experiences with Trainwreck and Squealer. “Others seek to assault those like me, thinking that beating a freak will win them favor with the groups that are more monstrous in action than I am in appearance.”

He still didn’t drop his hand.

“I just want to talk to your boss.” I hurried to reassure him. “No fighting, no… whatever, just a talk.”

Gregor hummed quietly. “A talk. Do you wish to hire us?”

“No.” I said hesitantly. “I just want advice.”

“Then I believe I will decline on Faultline’s behalf. We are not in the business of giving free consultations.” His tone was impeccably polite, a clear dismissal as he moved to step around me.

“Wait!” I said hurriedly. I didn’t move to block him though, I had no desire to incite him to lash out and leave me incapacitated while he left. “I’m new to the cape scene here. I just want to know my options.”

Gregor stopped a few steps away, turning his head back a bit to look at me. “You wish to join our group?”

“Maybe.” I hedged. It wasn’t wholly a lie, but if that’s how he wanted to interpret it, I wasn’t going to correct him. “I mainly want to know how it works being a mercenary, doing the kind of work you do. Your crew is the only group like that in the city I can ask.”

He was silent for a few moments before turning around to face me. “Very well. I will try to arrange a meeting. But there are conditions. If Faultline does not agree to a meeting tonight, you will leave and only return at a time and date of her choosing, and only if she is willing to meet with you. Whether the meeting takes place tonight or in the future, you will be blindfolded and l will lead you to the location, where Faultline will meet us. Do you accept these terms?” His tone wasn’t that of a question. It was an ultimatum: accept the terms, or no meeting.

I didn’t really have a choice if I wanted to do this. I nodded.

 “Stay here.” Gregor said. “I will be back in a minute.”

I watched as he walked halfway down the alley before digging a cell phone out of his pocket and making a call. I presumed he was calling Faultline to set up a meeting place. The alternative, that he was calling someone to deal with me, wasn’t one I enjoyed considering. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

I resisted the urge to put my hands in my pockets while I waited. No need making him    suspicious about what I had on me. Not that I had anything on me that would be a threat to him, with the exception of the pepper spray, or maybe the screwdriver if I used it as a knife. Though from what I knew of his power, both of those were debatable.

I occupied myself while he was on the phone by considering how I would deal with it if things turned violent with Gregor. Nothing I could do would really hurt him, which meant none of my minions could do anything to him besides just dogpiling him unless I wanted to resort to letting them use claws and fangs. No, if worst came to worst and he attacked me, my priority would have to be on occupying him long enough to get away.

I waited for a few minutes until he finished his call and approached again. “You are lucky. She has agreed to meet with you tonight.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a large t-shirt, clearly sized for him. “May I blindfold you now?”

Not quite the bag-over-the-head I’d been expecting, but then, I doubted he had cause to do this enough that he carried blindfolds as a matter or habit. I nodded and inclined my head to him as he stepped towards me.

Gregor stepped closer and pulled the shirt over my head like an improvised hood. Then he grabbed the fabric and began wrapping it back around, layering the cloth over my eyes to block off even the faint traces of light I could see and typing off the loose fabric to make sure it stayed tight on my head. In a matter of seconds, I was blind.

I watched all this happen from the perspective of my eye-spy hovering in the air some hundred feet above us. Agreeing might have been necessary, but I wasn’t going to be stupid about it. He’d even spared me the trouble of lying by not asking if I had any powers that would render the blindfold useless. I suspected the gesture was largely symbolic rather than practical, a way to show who was in charge of the meeting.

In any case, I was largely unaffected by the loss of my sight, and so I wasn’t surprised when I felt his hand grab my elbow, guiding me to follow him as he walked. I didn’t like him holding my arm, but I accepted it as a guide. It wasn’t a guide I really needed with an eye-spy showing me where I was walking, but he clearly thought it was necessary given the blindfold.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke. “How did you find me?”

I considered the question for a moment before deciding there wasn’t any harm in telling him. “I knew the general area where your group works, so I just searched there. It took me a while to find you though.”

“Yes. And you found me out of costume, carrying a shopping bag. Did it occur to you that I am off the clock?”

I nearly missed a step as he led me along. I hadn’t. I’d been so caught up in finally finding a member of Faultline’s crew I’d just acted immediately before he could slip away again.

He kept talking without waiting for a response. “Were I another cape you would have ignored me, perhaps not even realized who I was. But I am a Case 53. So you did not hesitate. Case 53s, we do not get secret identities. We cannot hide or blend in with ordinary people. And so you approach me as if I were going around in costume, when all I was doing was picking up groceries in the body I have.”

“I’m sorry.” I said, completely meaning it. I hadn’t fully considered the context of approaching him, and having it revealed and thrown at me in so stark a manner left me feeling guilty and embarrassed.

“Perhaps you are.” Gregor said. “But you still did it. It was rather insulting as well, throwing in my face that which I lack while wearing a mask of your own.”

“Is there something I can do to-” I cut myself off in the middle of the question. I wanted to make it up to him, but I also couldn’t think of a way to do that that I would be willing to do.

“By the unwritten rules, the typical penalty for finding another cape’s civilian identity is to unmask in turn.” Gregor said, cutting right to the core of my fears. “But Case 53s, we do not benefit as much from these rules. As I have stated, we do not get secret identities, so we are not protected by the rules surrounding them.”

He shrugged a gesture I would have missed without the eye-spy to provide me sight. “In any case, I am not a vengeful man. I have endured worse than the thoughtlessly insulting actions of a teenager. I can endure this as well. But perhaps you will remember this, yes? Avoid repeating this mistake in the future?”

I nodded shamefully. “I will. And I am sorry.”

He didn’t respond this time, merely continuing to lead me on in silence. Out of all the ways I’d imagined this meeting going, I hadn’t expected it to begin with a massive guilt trip. I deserved it though after managing to breach the unwritten rules by accident just by approaching him. And come to think of it, I’d done much the same thing to Trainwreck too, even if I hadn’t known he was a Case 53 at the time. Considering how much I worked to keep my two lives separate, I was doing a shitty job at allowing others to do the same.

I almost felt bad about shifting gears to consider the possibilities if this meeting turned against me. But the desire to not get beaten into a pulp was stronger than remorse, so the feeling passed fairly quickly, or at least was relegated to the back of my head along with all the other embarrassing moments I remembered at the worst times.

The good news for me was that Faultline’s crew didn’t kill. Every source I’d found on them, from their wiki page to the forums, agreed on that. So if worst came to worst, I’d get beaten up but left alive. My best option might actually be just letting them whale on me until they were satisfied, both conserving the energy for my minions and supporting my interests of making sure no one got a chance to see how my power really worked.

But that was something I would do as Taylor when faced with the Trio. As a cape I wouldn’t let myself get victimized, so I’d have to fight back, or flee if that was a poor option. And how poor of an option it was depended on who she had with her. If it was the entire group, I’d be screwed no matter what. If it was only one or two of her people, I’d still be in big trouble. From what I’d read, Newter, Gregor, and Labyrinth could all take me out of the fight almost immediately if they got a chance to use their powers on me. I had next to no information about their newest member, Spitfire, but with a name like that it wasn’t hard to guess her power would probably put me in the hospital if given half the chance. Faultline herself was actually the weakest power-wise, with a Manton limited matter destruction power that wouldn’t even harm my hoodie, much less me. But she was still a trained mercenary and the leader of the group, which meant I couldn’t afford to underestimate her, especially since I was coming here to ask questions of her expertise. Besides, I had plenty of personal experience to prove that supposedly weak powers could still be effective if used right.

The building we stopped at was a diner. From the lack of lights it was clearly closed, which Gregor didn’t seem to care about. He hauled open the side door and led me inside. For a brief moment I debated swooping in my eye-spy to get through the door with us, but decided against it. A second later the door closed, and for the first time since he’d put the blindfold on me, I was truly blind.

I followed him into the building, unable to see where I was going or what was around me. My power surged in response to my unease and I had to push it back down to stop myself from summoning a new eye-spy. I’d grown used to the freedom having extra eyes gave me, and now I was robbed of it. I sent my existing eye-spies flying around the building, looking for an opening they could wriggle through to join me. But this wasn’t a run-down warehouse or a conveniently open garage. I couldn’t find a way to get them inside.

Before I could, the blindfold was pulled off my head. I readjusted my hood as I looked around. We were in what looked to be the back room of the diner, where they kept the boxes of ingredients that didn’t need to be refrigerated. Gregor loomed to one side of me, stepping to the side and back, placing himself out of my line of sight and where I would have to get past him to get to the exit. Clinging to one wall was a cape I immediately recognized as Newter, a boy my age with bright orange skin, a tail, and green hair. He wore clothes similar to Gregor’s, the kind that could hide his unusual features if he wore them right.

Standing in front of me was Faultline. Compared to Gregor and Newter, both of whom were wearing ordinary clothes, her costume was of high quality. The main part of it was a dress, not long enough to be obstructive and not short enough to be skimpy, blended with the aesthetics of martial arts gear and liberal use of body armor. Her face was hidden by a welding mask, with a stylized crack running across it at an angle rather than a visor to allow her to see. It was well put together, both good looking and useful, and I felt a pang of jealously as I compared her costume to my ramshackle assembly of ordinary clothes and dye.

Gregor and Newter remained silent as she looked me up and down. “So,” she said at length, “The Bogeyman wants to talk to me.”

The statement put me on edge. I hadn’t introduced myself to Gregor, he hadn’t asked. Either he’d figured it out and passed it on, she’d figured it out only a few seconds after meeting me, or they somehow knew me already. I could reasonably rule out the third option, as my eye-spies had never picked up anyone watching me, which meant that either one of them had excellent intuition or I was worse at being covert than I hoped I was. Still, I’d spent days working to make this meeting happen. I couldn’t back out after only one sentence.

“Yes.” I said.

I waited a moment for her to respond, but she waved her hand in an indication for me to elaborate.

“Like I told Gregor,” I said, “I’m new to the cape thing. I wanted to get a lay of the land, check out my options. The pros and cons of the heroes and villains thing are pretty publicly known. Stuff like rogues and mercenaries gets glossed over, and you’re the only mercenaries in the city I could ask about it.”

I paused for a moment, then added one last point before she could reply. “Specifically, I’m looking into my options that don’t involve signing up with Tattletale.”

Faultline had seemed like she was about to say something, but she stopped when she heard that. Behind her, Newter glanced at Gregor, who I could only presume shared a look with him. Tattletale had never explicitly said it, but it was clear she and Faultline didn’t get along well. Whether that was for personal or professional reasons, I had no idea, but I hoped Faultline would be willing to talk with me if it meant taking a potential ally away from Tattletale.

“Why Tattletale?” Faultline asked. Her voice was still as stern as before, but I thought she seemed a bit more interested than when she’d first talked. Or maybe I just hoped she was, but there was no point in backing out now.

“She approached me, offered me a job.” I replied. “Promised pay, assistance, connections. I’m wondering if it’s worth it to sign up with her, work with her as a mercenary, or whether I should just avoid her altogether.”

Faultline scoffed. “I’ll tell you right now, nothing in the world is worth signing up with that smug bitch.”

I wanted to ask more about that, but instead I stayed quiet. It hadn’t been an actual response to my request so I didn’t want to respond. Looking back on my talks with Tattletale I’d noticed a pattern when she’d made her offers, periods where she stayed quiet and let me think or talk at her without giving me anything to seize on other than considering the options I had. As I was now in a business partnership with Tattletale and considering going on an actual job, I hoped it would be as effective here.

I occupied myself trying to guide an eye-spy into the building.

A few seconds passed before Faultline spoke. “Alright, two questions. One, what do you want to know? And two, how much are you paying for the answers?”

I suppressed a wince. I’d been hoping she’d be willing to give me answers without charging for them. “I don’t really have much money. I can give you fifty bucks now, another hundred and fifty if I get my savings.”

Faultline sighed. “Look, kid, it’s clear to me that you’re not very experienced with negotiating. I get it, I was there once upon a time. So were these guys before they joined up with me.”

She gestured to Newter and Gregor. Newter nodded, though he didn’t speak up as Faultline kept talking. “Why don’t you join up with us? We make enough that a hundred and fifty dollars will seem like chump change, you’ll get opportunities for training extra skills, and we can go over the mercenary stuff in a nicer place than the back room of a restaurant.”

The offer of money and training could have been a tempting offer if it was in the short term, but the way she phrased it didn’t sound like that’s what she had in mind. Joining likely meant unmasking, which would make leaving the group a much harder process, and I’d likely want to leave sooner rather than later if I joined given their status as a semi-nomadic mercenary group. I thought of Dad and all the times I’d heard him complain about how the Docks were going to shit or sat through a school presentation talking about the very real dangers of getting mugged, killed, or kidnapped by the gangs. No, leaving the city wasn’t an option. Their nature as a villainous group only solidified my decision. I felt a bit uncomfortable that their villain status hadn’t been the first thing I thought of to immediately dismiss the idea, but I stifled the discomfort with the self-assurance that I had decided against it anyways.

“Thank you for the offer, but no.” I said, trying to politely phrase my denial. I didn’t offer an explanation, and she didn’t ask for one.

Faultline didn’t visibly react, though Newter seemed disappointed. I’d roughly figured things out by now. Faultline was stoic or just professional enough that not much of her emotions showed through, while Newter was not only expressive, but he didn’t wear a mask. He’d be the one to watch for reactions as the conversation went on.

“Really?” Faultline said. “Word on the street says you’ve been doing vigilante work, but if you’re considering working with Tattletale you can’t be so squeaky clean that you’re refusing on principle.”

It stung to hear her so casually assume I had an openness to villainy. It was enough that I almost reconsidered my entire plan for the Undersiders. If she made that assumption so quickly after hearing that I even considered working with them, what would it be like if I actually did the job and was found out? I shook my head, but didn’t answer aloud.

She waited for a moment before accepting I wasn’t going to say anything else on the matter. “Fine.” Faultline said briskly. “Give me the fifty dollars and tell me your power.”

I was already reaching into my pocket for the money when I heard the second half of her sentence. Newter seemed surprised too, though he quickly tried to school his face back into a neutral expression. Probably not a good sign. “Excuse me?”

“Your power.” She said impatiently. “Tell me what it is. Powers are all different, which means they all need different advice. I can’t give you anything besides the generic stuff unless I know what you can do.”

I weighed the options in my head. Better advice versus compromising my best advantage of keeping the specifics of my power under wraps. I didn’t need to think long.

“No. I’m fine with the generic advice.” I said.

“Really?” Faultline said exasperatedly. “You came to me asking for advice. If you’re not going to be open to a simple request, you’re just wasting my time and yours.”

I cast a glance to Newter. He seemed tense at the situation unfolding, looking between me and Faultline. He knew Faultline better than I did and I assumed that meant she was unhappy enough that things might unfold poorly. Still, I wasn’t willing to back down.

“Generic advice is fine.” I said. “I just need to know the basics for now.”

Faultline stared me down for a moment. I met her gaze, the mirrored lenses of my goggles hiding my eyes. After a few seconds she scoffed and held out a hand for the money, which I passed to her. She flipped through the bills for a second to count them before nodding in satisfaction.

“Fine.” Faultline said. “You want to be a dumbass, less competition for us. First, find a niche. Bodyguard work, hacking, information retrieval, they all require different skill sets. Find what you’re good at, stick to that. Second, always demand partial pay up front. You’ll never get a full half unless you’re dealing with an amateur, but asking for it gives you a good start for haggling.”

She pocketed the bills and stepped away. Newter hopped down off the wall, flipping up his hoodie and pulling down his long sleeves to hide his orange skin. I took that to be a sign that Faultline was done talking.

“Wait!” I said hurriedly. This was not going how I’d hoped. “How does the hero-villain thing work with being a mercenary?”

Faultline looked back over her shoulder at me. “Kid, I could teach a class about the difference in work coming from heroic and villainous types and how the public takes it. But you paid me fifty dollars, not a teacher’s salary. Short version, no one ever calls you a villain until they see you breaking the law, and that’s all you’re getting out of me. Gregor?”

I heard a wet noise and something struck my foot. I tried to stagger and found that only one leg moved. Looking down, I saw a glistening mass of slime encasing my other foot, gluing it to the ground. I yanked on my leg to no avail. I was stuck tight.

I seized on my power in preparation to summon savages and defend myself, but Faultline and Newter were already circling past me to the exit, making me twist around to watch them. “Nothing personal, but I’d rather you didn’t get any ideas about following us.” Faultline said. “Don’t worry, it’s harmless. Give it an hour and you can pull yourself loose.”

She glanced at Gregor as she spoke, who nodded an affirmation. He was holding the door for Faultline and Newter to walk out before he moved to follow them. He gave me one last look before the door swung shut behind him, leaving me alone in the back room of a diner.

I calmed myself and pushed my power back down. It might have been my imagination, but I suspected Gregor had looked a bit pleased about leaving me glued to the floor. Not that I could blame him for it given how I’d approached him. I could appreciate the reasoning too, I would have done much the same in their position.

That didn’t mean I was happy about it. I pulled harder on my leg but remained resolutely stuck. The feeling of being trapped in place really didn’t sit right with me, and the method brought to mind memories of glues and adhesives smeared across seats and floors. So while I could appreciate the caution, their attempt to stop me from following them really just pissed me off.

Not that it actually impaired me any more than the hood had. I still had my eye-spies, and after how this meeting had gone, I had no qualms about sending one to follow them as they left the diner. I wasn’t sure if they’d actually go anywhere worth noting while they were still in my range, but it was worth a shot. At the same time I summoned a savage to try and claw my foot free, though I had to dismiss it a moment later as its claws got stuck in the glue. I’d be waiting the hour after all.

That gave me time to think. This meeting had been, generally speaking, a waste of time. I hadn’t lost more money than I could replace by looting a few gangster’s wallets after taking them down, but I’d apparently gotten what I paid for. That actually annoyed me more than if they’d been outright hostile. I could have dealt with getting attacked, or at least I would have survived. Instead I’d gotten mocking condescension when all I wanted was some advice.

It wasn’t bad enough that I was going to attack them over it, though the thought crossed my mind. They were too competent, and their powers were too good for that to end well for me. Tracking them with the eye-spy was more of an impulse decision, though one I was coming around to as I thought about it. Worst case scenario, I learned nothing. From what I could see, they were taking a deliberately circuitous route to wherever they were going, doubling back and taking shortcuts in what I assumed to be an attempt to shake any tails. If their destination wasn’t somewhere they’d reach soon or fell outside my range, learning nothing seemed the likely scenario.

Best case, I’d learn where their hideout was and I’d have that info in reserve if I ever needed it. The location of a villain mercenary team’s base would probably go nicely with any info I gathered on the Undersiders when I handed it over to the PRT. It wouldn’t be much in the grand scheme of things, but it would certainly be more useful to the heroes than Faultline’s sparse advice would be to me.

‘They don’t call you a villain until they see you breaking the law.” I snorted and tried to pull my foot free again. I didn’t need her to tell me that, my biggest concern about taking Tattletale’s offer had been over making sure I wouldn’t be linked to a crime. Well, maybe second biggest concern after my constant one-person debates about how and whether to betray them.

If nothing else, I’d met some of the other capes in the city at least, marking the second time I’d ever come face-to-face with another cape without violence arising. And both of those meetings had been with villains, which did not do wonders for my personal image even if no one else knew.

I sighed and pushed the goggles up on my face to rub the bridge of my nose. This all left me roughly back where I’d started: in need of more information. If anything, it only convinced me even more that I needed to know more about the situation before making a decision. And there was only one way I could think of to do that.

Tattletale had said I could come to the planning session for whatever job they decided to pull. Going to that promised information on whatever job was in the works, as well as an opportunity to learn about the other Undersiders. From whatever I learned there, I could decide whether to proceed farther with the job and find an opportunity to try and turn them over to the Protectorate despite the counter-scheming Tattletale was sure to be employing, or to just play it safe and just inform the Protectorate of everything I learned about the group in the one meeting.

I ignored the stray thought that arose at the idea of betraying them by using what I’d learned abut them against them, one that made me compare myself to someone who regularly did much the same to me. This was different. We weren’t friends, our connection was purely business. Besides, she’d been the one to raise the idea of betraying her. I couldn’t be blamed if I did it. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the thought and made the rebuttal, but it still wasn’t easy.

In any case, I needed to go the that meeting to learn more. I pulled out my phone and dialed Tattletale. As it rang I watched Faultline, Newter and Gregor through my eye-spy. They’d started talking, though only after several minutes of travel. Another show of caution I could respect, remaining silent until they were farther from a potential adversary. Even if I tapped into my eye-spy’s senses I wouldn’t be able to hear them without moving it in closer and putting it at risk of detection. I wasn’t willing to take that risk, so I just watched.

They cut around another building, but rather than continue down the street they went in the front door. Quick observation showed the building to be a nightclub, with gaudy glowing letters spelling out “Palanquin” on the front. I doubted they’d just go clubbing right after a meeting, especially since Gregor was carrying bags from shopping. They’d gone right in the front door too, cutting right past the line outside. Clearly they had some sway there. Was it their hideout, or were they just well-known there? In any case, it was worth remembering. I had an hour to kill so I set my eye-spy to watch the entrances and exits in case they left for another destination.

Tattletale picked up after over a minute of ringing. “Hey, Bogeyman! It’s been a while.”

I interrupted her before she could get going. “The job. You mentioned a planning meeting?”

“Yup.” She said, popping the P. “We lay out all the blueprints, talk over everything we know about the place, put together a plan, order takeout, all the good stuff.”

“Okay.” I said. “When is it?”

“For our next job? Tomorrow.” Tattletale replied immediately. “Are you in for the job?”

“I’ll come to the planning meeting,” I said, “On two conditions. One, I get paid up front. Whatever I would get at the end of the job, I want you to give me half of it at the meeting.”

“Half is too much.” Tattletale shot back. “Ten percent.”

“Forty-five percent.” I countered.

“Twenty.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Done.” She said. “You know we don’t actually know what the final haul will be until we’ve done it, right?”

“You’ve done other jobs before. Make a high estimate, take it out of my pay at the end if it’s too much.” The possibility that there wouldn’t be a payout at the end, or that I might not even be there for it, went unspoken but understood.

“Sure.” I could tell she was grinning. “And the other condition?”

“You have that one meeting to convince me to go along with the job.” I said. “If I’m not satisfied by the end of it, I’m not coming on the job and I’m keeping the thirty-five percent.”

“Fair enough.” Tattletale replied. “Meeting at eight o’clock at night then?”

“If you want me to attend over phone. It would have to be later for me to make it in person, after ten at least.”

“Okay, we can work with that. I’ll call you tomorrow at ten with the location then.”

“Got it.” I said before hanging up.

I let out a breath and tucked the phone away. All in all, it was about as good an arrangement as I could get. One meeting and I’d probably have enough information to try and reach out to the PRT, while I’d certainly have enough money to make up for everything I spent in my early stages of preparing to go out as a cape. I’d just have to make up some reason to be dissatisfied with the plan, assuming it wasn’t unsatisfactory to begin with, and I wouldn’t even have to truly betray anyone.

I tried not to acknowledge the bit of relief I felt at the idea.


	16. Snarl 3.3

I paced in an alley. True to her word, Tattletale had told me the time and the place of the Undersiders’ meeting for whatever job they were currently planning. I’d put on my costume, come to the area they were meeting, and only when I could see the building the meeting was in did I start getting cold feet.

I groaned and spun on my heel to continue the circuit I was walking. I’d already made up my mind that I was going. I wouldn’t be able to bring down the Undersiders if I never even went near them. Even aiming low and putting aside thoughts of taking them down myself, getting enough information to hand over to the PRT required me to gather that information in the first place.

But taking this step and walking into a villain meeting felt like something irrevocable, something I couldn’t take back no matter what I did in the future, even if I was the only one who ever knew. I turned my attention to what I was seeing from the eye-spy I’d slipped into the warehouse, appraising the situation I would be walking into.

The warehouse was similar to many of the ones I’d seen over the past month, though it resembled less the ones used by gangs and more the attached, abandoned ones I’d moved my eye-spies through to get to the relevant ones. Piles of old wooden boxes filled the room, many halfway rotten and all long ago pried open to salvage any valuables inside. In the middle of the mess was an open space, recently cleared going by the marks in the dust, in the center of which sat a table and the group I was here to meet.

Tattletale sat in a cheap folding chair at one end of the table. Spread out before her was an arrangement of papers, carrying tubes, and… was that a box of pizza? Well, she had mentioned takeout as a part of their planning process. It still seemed weirdly out of place, but I ignored it to focus on the villains.

A roughly human-shaped patch of darkness stood at the other end, a chair pushed back behind it. That would be Grue. Out of the four in the group, he was the only one I had really known about before finding out about the Undersiders. He was a mercenary, one who had only arrived in the city last summer. He’d been in the business longer than that though, working jobs in the cities and towns surrounding Brockton Bay for about a two and a half years beforehand. I’d first assumed he’d just gone where the work was, but Tattletale’s comment about our similarities convinced me it had been more calculated, building up reputation and renown before moving to a more well-known city with more capes, a place where it would be harder to get those things as a novice struggling against the already established groups. A tactic that I might have used myself if only my attachment to the city hadn’t given me a bit of tunnel vision, though it was only with the benefit of hindsight that I considered it.

Off to the side stood the other well-known villain, Hellhound. Her only costume was a cheap plastic dog mask, but that was enough to easily distinguish her. She was a nomadic troublemaker, moving from city to city and causing trouble in each for a few months before moving on. Brockton Bay was just her latest stop in a two-year long journey, though strangely enough she’d all but dropped off the map for a year before showing up again just a few months ago. After what I’d read about her, she was the member of the group that scared me the most. Lounging on the floor around her was a trio of dogs that caused a good chunk of that fear. According to the wiki, she could turn those dogs into mountains of muscle and bone with a thought before having them tear me to pieces. The other part of that fear was that the wiki had been very clear about her lack of a secret identity. Her cape and civilian life were one and the same, and that meant she had very little to hold her back, an assertion the wiki had backed up with notes about her violent and antisocial behavior. If anyone in the group decided to throw reason to the wind and lash out with violence, I was certain it would be her.

Sitting at the table across from her, leaning his seat with his feet on the table, was the group’s mystery member. His clothing was of an old style I guessed to be renaissance-era, with a loose shirt and leggings. The top half of his face was hidden by a venetian mask, complete with a silver circlet atop his head. I was the most scared of Hellhound, but I was the wariest of him. I didn’t know anything about his powers or personality. Even his name was a mystery to me.

Was he the leader of the group? It certainly seemed possible. Grue was a mercenary with no record of him working alongside other capes before the Undersiders, so I assumed he’d been bought out by the group on a longer contract. Hellhound, from what I knew about her from the wiki and the forums, was too volatile to pull a group like this together without feeding at least one member to her dogs by now. Tattletale… she was certainly intelligent and good at collecting information, but I couldn’t imagine any group staying together for this long with her as the central personality.

And those things would remain a mystery until I actually went in there. I’d decided I was going to go to the meeting, so I was frustrated that I was having hang-ups now. As I considered it, the moral aspect of it wasn’t actually my main concern. Sure, I didn’t like the idea of involving myself with them, but I’d been associating with Tattletale for weeks now. My main problem with just walking in was the potential of danger in the situation.

Tattletale had made it clear she expected to come out on top if I tried to betray the Undersiders. That begged the question of how she planned to stay ahead of anything I tried. The Undersiders were thieves and escape artists, so I was reasonably confident the answer wouldn’t directly involve violence. They got by by avoiding fights rather than winning them, so starting a fight fell outside their typical behavior. That meant they likely wouldn’t preemptively attack me simply out of caution.

Tattletale’s general know-it-all schtick made it more likely that any counter-betrayal would be more intellectual in nature. The first thought that came to mind was knowing when I would try to betray them and taking steps to ensure it would simply be ineffective. She’d given me my phone after all, and I couldn’t wholly rule out that it was bugged, which meant calling ahead to the PRT to set up a trap for them would be difficult. I could always snag a phone from a gangster, but with the way she was always able to provide information regarding villain locations and hero patrols, I suspected she had some sort of source in the PRT itself.

The second thought was some sort of trick to show me to the public as a villain, ruining my own plans for betraying them. That thought was more concerning than the idea of getting the crap beaten out of me by Hellhound and Grue. Bruises and broken bones could heal, but a major stain on my reputation, especially if it was made into my first real public appearance, would be something I couldn’t recover from.

I had to reassure myself that Tattletale had asked me to come along, which meant her ideal ending to the entire event involved me still on her side, and by extension, the Undersiders’. Deliberately making me appear as a villain to the public would destroy any hope keeping the arrangement we currently held, much less building any stronger relationship in the future, and she was smart enough to know that. If that was her plan, she couldn’t afford to use it preemptively and it would most likely be a last-resort.

Simplified, it all meant the likelihood of this meeting being a trap was minimal. I had a good arrangement with Tattletale going on, there was no reason for them to set up a whole fake offer for me to come on a job just to try and get rid of me. But I was still nervous.

I contemplated whether to just send a savage in my place or call Tattletale and do the meeting over the phone. Both ideas were quickly dismissed. Sending a savage would give away my ability to wordlessly command my minions at a distance, and I wanted to keep that card up my sleeve as long as possible. Doing the meeting over the phone would arguably be even worse. It would definitely set off warning bells with them, which would put them on guard and hamstring my attempts to gather information.

Meeting in person was my only chance of getting the information I wanted without overtly playing my hand. I reluctantly stepped out of the alley towards the building, wishing I had some way to secure myself against whatever they might pull.

I felt my power twitch at the thought, but nothing happened. No air fracturing, no new monster. I sighed and slumped my shoulders a bit. Apparently walking into a meeting with supervillains wasn’t enough of a reason for my power to create a new minion.

As I reached the building I considered whether to summon some savages, but decided against it. For one thing, it would come across as too hostile or untrusting if I showed up with a couple of mutant bodyguards. For another, if I did end up needing them, they would be of more use being created in the midst of the Undersiders.

I adjusted the strap of the backpack I carried over one shoulder. The zipper was open, leaving the assortment of assorted blunt metal items easily accessible. If it came down to violence, my savages would at least have easy access to weapons.

I opened an old employee door and walked inside. With my eye-spy in the rafters providing an overhead view, I was able to easily find my way through the maze of boxes to the center. They’d managed to turn on only the light above the meeting place, giving the table surrounded by villains a suitable dramatic look as I rounded the last set of boxes and saw the group with my own eyes for the first time.

Though Hellhound was the one looking in my direction, Tattletale was the first to see me. “And she arrives!” she said with a wide grin.

She hopped out of her chair and walked over to me, moving to sling an arm around my shoulders. I shied away reflexively, an impulse born of being on the receiving end of that same maneuver so Sophia or Emma could ‘talk’ with me. I winced under my bandanna, hoping I hadn’t just offended her before I’d even gotten to say anything, or worse, made it seem like I didn’t trust her. Which I didn’t, but the whole information gathering thing hinged pretty heavily on them trusting me in turn.

But she took it in stride. Tattletale stepped away from me and pulled her arm back. “My bad, should have asked if you were cool with touching. So, you know who everyone is? Read all our wiki pages?”

I nodded hesitantly. It seemed weird to admit that I’d read someone’s wiki page to their face, but the note of pride in her voice made me think she was more bragging about having a wiki page than actually asking a question. “Mostly. You, Grue, Hellhound-”

“Bitch.” Hellhound spat. She glared at me through the eyeholes of her mask. Seeing her up close I realized for the first time just how much stockier than me she was. Considering our respective powers, I wouldn’t have thought considering her as an opponent in a fistfight would be necessary, but by her stance I was about half certain she might have punched me if I was close enough.

“Excuse me?” I asked, balancing indignation with caution. I glanced at her dogs. Still normal. That was good. They had gotten up from their previously relaxed positions, which was less good.

“You heard her.” The mystery cape said. “ _Bitch._ ” He emphasized the word, distinctly pronouncing each syllable. He had a smile on his face, one far more satisfied that I felt the situation warranted.

I bristled, my power rising up. My attention flicked between Hellhound, her dogs, and the mystery cape, trying to figure out if one of them was going to make a move. I didn’t want to start a fight within the first ten seconds of the meeting, but I also wasn’t about to take insults lying down. I had enough of that as a civilian, letting it happen as a _cape_ would be-

Tattletale interjected before I could respond. “It’s not an insult. Her name is Bitch, the press just calls her Hellhound. Broadcast standards and decency and all that.”

“Oh.” I said lamely. I let my power die back down. Why hadn’t they just said that to begin with?

“So she’s Bitch, the jackass who tried to goad you to some sitcom misunderstanding is Regent, our illustrious leader is Grue, and I…” The pause and a movement from Tattletale drew my attention from where she’d been pointing at each person as she spoke. It took me a moment to realize understand what she’d done.

Tattletale had pulled her mask off. “…am Lisa. Nice to meet you.”

She held out a hand to shake. I did so on reflex, still trying to work out what had just happened. She’d just… unmasked? The mask still dangled from her other hand. Yeah, that had just happened.

I looked at the other Undersides to try and gauge their reactions. Hellhound, or Bitch rather, didn’t seem to react at all. Regent, as I now knew the mystery cape to be called, had a wide grin and seemed half a second away from bursting out laughing. And Grue…

I let go of Tattletale’s hand and stepped away as I realized Grue and approached to within arm’s reach. It hadn’t quite clicked for me before just how dark the darkness around him was. It was so deeply, utterly black that it looked more like a hole in reality than anything else.

“Tattletale.” The voice that came from the darkness sounded hollow, echoing and reverberating as if it was speaking out of some deep cave. It made it impossible to tell how old he was, and if the wiki hadn’t mentioned he was a man, it would have been too distanced from any normal-sounding voice for me to guess his gender with any accuracy. The eerie effect was compounded by a glimpse of a skeletal face in the darkness, barely visible. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The two stepped away, leaving me with Regent and Bitch. Great. The one who was most likely to start a fight and the one who’d tried to goad me into starting one.

A moment of silence stretched on. Bitch pulled her own mask off and tossed it on the table with a noise of annoyance, though who or what it was directed at, I couldn’t say. The picture of her unmasked face on the wiki was clearly a bit out of date, but not so much that it was a stretch to recognize her. Short auburn hair, blunt features, a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. I looked away before she could catch me staring. No use pissing her off.

Regent finally laughed. “Dumbass.”

I looked to him before registering it wasn’t directed at me. I glanced to where Grue and Tattletale were talking, then back to him. “Does she…?”

“Normally do that when we meet people?” he finished. “No. Normally she’s smart.”

That was an interesting comment. Unless this entire meeting was a rehearsed deception, he’d basically just confirmed that Tattletale had given me her real name. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she’d do that. She’d brought me here with the explicit understanding that I would betray them! She could have gotten through this meeting perfectly fine without telling me her name, if not better. Why give me even more information I could use to screw her over?

Bitch leaned over the table, glaring at me. “I don’t want you here.”

The non-sequitur threw me for a loop. “What?”

“We don’t need you.” Bitch said. “We can do this job fine on our own without you.”

“Don’t mind her.” Regent said casually. “She doesn’t like the idea of new people getting involved, gets pissy at the thought of getting a smaller share.”

“Fuck you.” Bitch spat, glowering at him.

Regent ignored her. “Though for the record, I don’t want you here either.”

I frowned. Okay, so half the group already didn’t like me. If things continued at this rate, I’d be running away from the meeting with a pack of angry supervillains on my tail.

“What, you don’t want a smaller share too?” I asked, trying to avoid an awkward, angry silence.

Regent shook his head. “Nah, I’ve plenty of cash. I was really just talking about this.” He said, gesturing around us.

“This… meeting?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He groaned. “Usually when we plan stuff we just do it at home. Crash on the sofa, pitch in here and there. Usually I don’t even have to change out of pajamas. But now we’ve got to put on costumes, come out to a shitty warehouse, wait around for you to show up. It’s a lot of hassle.”

“I see.” I said slowly. I was pretty sure I had his measure now. He was the kind of guy who liked to mess with people, say something to freak them out or make them think something different than what he meant. Though I wasn’t sure if he even enjoyed it, it seemed like it might have just been an automatic response.

Though from that one exchange, I’d learned Regent liked to screw with people and wore pajamas while planning criminal activities. Looking back, I felt almost embarrassed by my suspicions that he was the leader.

“For the job itself, I’m all for you being there.” He continued. “I’m all for having some freaky monsters on our side, especially if they’re free.”

“I’m getting paid.” I said, a little more severely than I’d intended to. I didn’t like the implication that they were planning to avoid paying me, especially after I’d made it clear to Tattletale that I wanted some of the money upfront. Though I was planning to sell them out to the Protectorate or find a way to beat them up myself, so I supposed it wasn’t entirely unfair for them to not pay me.

He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “Yeah, but I don’t have to pay you. Tattletale’s covering all that with her share.” He stretched to snag the box of pizza and pulled out a slice before offering the box to me. “Pizza?”

I shook my head. Internally, I was still a bit shocked. Maybe I didn’t have the full picture, but Tattletale, or Lisa, apparently, seemed to be staking a lot on me. She unmasked to me, she was paying me entirely out of her cut of whatever the job was, all for someone she’d openly invited to betray her. What was her plan?

I looked back towards her and Grue to find them returning to the table. Neither of the made any comment about what they had discussed as they returned to their places. “Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Lisa said, “It’s time for your part of the introductions.”

I felt nervous under the gaze of four sets of eyes. “I don’t have a name picked out yet.” I lied. I did have an idea for a name, but I didn’t want to use it until I was joining the Wards. I _definitely_ didn’t want to use it for whatever they were planning.

“We need to call you something, otherwise we’ll just be yelling ‘hey, you’.” Grue said. “Why not Bogeyman? It’s what the forums call you.”

I shook my head. “If I do this, it’s under the condition that it doesn’t get tied back to me later. Calling me that would just streamline the process of identifying me.”

“How about Freak?”  Regent suggested.

I stiffened. “No.” I said coldly. I’d heard that name enough around Winslow.  And as much as I wanted to avoid this meeting becoming a confrontation, I would probably punch him in the face without a second thought if he started calling me that.

“Critter, Bestiary, Aberration, Cadmus, Cryptid.” Lisa rattled off. “It’s only for the short term, it doesn’t need to be great.”

“Aberration, sure.” I said, picking one at random.

“Too long.” Regent commented. “I’m just going to call you Abby.”

I sighed. I’d dealt with this enough at Winslow, I knew reacting would just encourage him. “Fine, go ahead.” It wasn’t like I’d be stuck with the name forever.

“Great, that’s dealt with.” Lisa said. “Pull up a chair and we can get started.”

The others were sitting, leaving me with a fifth chair sitting at the edge of the cleared space. I grabbed it, and after a moment’s consideration, moved it to sit between Regent and Lisa.

Lisa scooted over a bit to give me some more room, then offered me the box of pizza from where Regent had placed it. “Hungry?”

“No thanks, Regent already offered me some.” I said awkwardly.

Lisa nodded knowingly. “It’s the mask, right? Can’t eat without taking it off? Don’t worry, we’ll leave you some to take with you once we’re done.”

“That’s fine.” I said. “But before we start, I have some questions.”

Lisa glanced at Grue. “Go ahead.” He said.

“First, what’s up with you and Faultline?”

Lisa grinned as she snagged a piece of pizza for herself before pushing the box over to Bitch. “You talked to her, huh? I figured you would. Short version, personal disagreements. Long version, back in November we hit a tech firm that she was also hired to rob. We got away with the loot and I was a less than graceful winner.”

“She bragged her ass off about being smarter than Faultline.” Regent pitched in.

Lisa inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that. She’s a professional merc with years of experience under her belt, so losing to us was a blow to her ego, and I pretty much took credit for it. From there things kind of spiraled. Mostly just insults, but occasionally there’s some actual interference.”

“Like Spitfire.” Regent commented.

“Her newest recruit?” I asked.

“She was going to be _our_ newest recruit.” Grue said. “But Faultline poached her before we got the chance.”

I nodded understandingly. In actuality, my thoughts were far from Spitfire. Lisa had only mentioned it offhandedly, but her feud with Faultline had started over something that happened in November. That was months earlier than anything had shown up about the Undersiders being a group online. This whole meeting was a goldmine of information. Besides that, now I knew that Grue was their leader, that they were recruiting, and more about Regent than the entire PHO.

But I needed to know more. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Second question, what are your powers?”

“Why do you want to know?” Grue asked.

I shrugged. “If there’s a possibility I’m doing a job with you, I want to know what I’d be working alongside. I already know you and Hel- Bitch’s powers, and you probably know mine, but what about them?” I asked, gesturing to Regent and Lisa.

“Well…” Regent said with a grin.

“No.” Grue cut in. “His power gives him minor control over other people’s reflexes. Makes them stumble, drop things, flub a punch.”

“Come on!” Regent said in annoyance. “Why can’t I explain my own power?”

“Because you were going to give a demonstration.” Grue said. “And this is neither the time nor the place.”

“As for me,” Lisa said, “Sorry hon, that’s a trade secret for members only. But I’ll tell you this: I know a _lot_ more than I should.”

I hadn’t even realized I was tense, but I relaxed. The power of Regent, the mystery cape, was to make people twitch. That was significantly less ominous than some of the alternatives I’d imagined leading up to this meeting.

Lisa, on the other hand, continued to miff me. Now I at least had confirmation that she was some sort of Thinker, but the exact mechanism was still secret. Unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected. I’d concealed the details of my own power from Faultline, though I hoped this meeting would go better than that one.

“Any more questions?” Grue asked. When I shook my head, he stood up. “Alright then. Let’s get down to business. Tattletale?”

Lisa grabbed one of the carrying tubes and popped it open, unrolling a blueprint on the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our target: the Ruby Dreams Casino.”

I perked up at that. “Isn’t that owned by the ABB?” Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. That casino had to bring in quite the cash flow for ABB and I was all for cutting it off.

“No,” Lisa said, “Despite what the rumor mill likes to circulate.”

“Really?” I said.

“Yeah. The ABB do skulk around the area sometimes, but there’s nothing to suspect they have actual ABB ties.”

“Not doing much to encourage me to help you rob the place.” I said dryly.

 “You’d find out eventually, and I’d rather be honest with you than build a relationship on a lie. If you agree with the plan, I want it to be because you actually agree with it. But I digress. The important thing about the casino is that it’s outside the city. They built it there to avoid city property taxes, but it _also_ means they’re outside the Protectorate’s usual scope in Brockton.”

“By how much?” Grue asked.

Lisa shrugged. “Enough that if our robbery happens on a night and at a time where the on-duty PRT capes are all Wards, it would take them too long to either get extra-city authorization for the kids or call in an adult hero to deal with us in any reasonable timeframe. Easy enough to plan if you have access to the PRT schedule.” She held up a printed page of notes with a grin. “And I do.”

That definitely caught my attention. It seemed I hadn’t been off the mark with my suspicions of her having a source in the PRT.

Grue nodded. Or at least I thought he did, the patch of darkness where I assumed his head was bobbed down a little. “Alright. What are the building’s key points?”

Lisa grabbed another set of papers and spread them over the blueprints. “Power. The casino is pretty far from the main grid, and that means vulnerable power lines. Cut those and the whole place goes dark.”

Grue made a hollow noise I took to be a hum. “Why would we want that? We do smash-and-grabs, not heists.”

“Yeah, but think of the rep.” Lisa said. “Anyone can knock down a door and grab some cash. Blowing the power is a step above, shows everyone that we’re more than just common thieves.”

“I still think it’s unnecessarily complicated. The more steps to the plan, the more we risk the whole thing failing if one goes wrong.”

“You would think that, but that’s where this comes in.” Lisa tapped a set of papers. I grabbed one and skimmed it while she kept talking. “The casino keeps its cash in the back, and given how much it hangs onto between bank visits, security is pretty tight. One of the more prominent problems is a set of reinforced security doors. Someone presses a button or the sensors pick up someone without the right authorization, the doors drop and lock in place until the primary administrator comes to open them, no exceptions.”

“And cutting the power helps with these?” I asked warily. So far, Lisa and Grue had done most of the talking and I was cautious about catching attention in this conversation.

“Exactly,” Lisa said, acknowledging my input without a second thought. “The doors are fail open for fire safety purposes, which means that if we cut the power, the lock-down doors go out of commission. If we just try and bust in there, we’d have to spend time breaking open each door with the dogs. We could do it, but it would take a much longer time than just strolling through an unobstructed hallway.

“And that’s not to mention the other stuff that goes down without power. The alarm signal to the authorities for example, or the security cameras.”

She looked at me as she said the last part. The message was clear, if the power was cut, there would be no security footage of me being there.

“I agree.” I said. “Cutting the power seems like it’s the best way to remove the most obstacles the fastest.

“Alright, you’ve sold me.” Grue said. “We’ll cut the power. But you’re overlooking something. A business that big would have a backup generator.”

“It does.” Lisa said. “But with the primary power flow interrupted, the whole building switches over to a power conservation set up, which lessens the security around the breakers. We get to those and we can shut down the parts we want.”

“So security cameras, security doors, alarms.” Grue said. “What’s the security on the cash room itself?”

“Analog safe door.” Lisa said with a grin. “Probably didn’t want anyone to be able to hack it, but my power can get us in fine and it isn’t impaired if we cut power to the whole area.”

“Alright. So for out route, I’m thinking we go here.” Grue reached an arm out of the darkness to trace a finger across a particular section of the blueprint. It was the first glimpse I’d gotten to the person behind the darkness. He wore a glove and what seemed to be a leather jacket, which seemed at odds with the skeletal face I’d seen looming from the darkness. Had he spent most of his budget on a mask? Or was he a Case 53 under all those shadows?

Lisa looked at the route he’d indicated and raised an eyebrow. “Right past the security offices?”

“Sure. If we avoid them, we give them time to spread out, come at us from an unexpected place or time, or just call the cops. This way we go to them and deal with them on our terms.”

“Good with me.” Regent pitched in. “But I have to ask, what’s stopping any old schmo from just calling the cops?”

“Not much.” Lisa admitted. “But a phone call doesn’t have quite the same kick as an emergency protocol. Besides, if we avoid the main floor of the casino and leave the power on to the office sections on the upper floors, no one besides the guards will even know we’re there. And since our working plan involves taking out the guards and cutting all the automated alarms, we’ve got a pretty good chance of pulling this off without anyone hearing about it until it’s over.”

Regent groaned. “Why did you say that? Never say anything like that, it’s just asking for trouble!?

Lisa ignored him. “Now, let’s talk guard routes.”

An hour ticked by, then another. Lisa led the discussion with Grue providing comments and criticisms. Occasionally Regent would pitch in, or very rarely, Bitch, but for the most part they seemed satisfied letting the other two handle the planning. I stayed mostly quiet. Occasionally I asked a question to clarify something or another, but I didn’t actually contribute. I didn’t want to make the plan _better_ considering my participation hinged on how good it was, but it was feeling more and more likely that I would be going along.

I was almost certain now that Lisa had sources in the PRT. Besides the schedule, she’d spouted off notes on the tactics and habits of the heroes on duty for the planned day that you couldn’t just get from the wiki. That meant just calling the PRT on them wasn’t an option, though considering their reputation for slipping out of tricky situations, I’d already eliminated the option of just calling the Protectorate to snag them at the arranged meeting place. If I wanted to take them down, I’d need to get involved myself.

But how well I could do that depended on the plan. And the thing was, these guys were good at planning. They laid out guard routes, how to move through the casino without alerting the patrons, what to do if something went wrong and the plan to screw with the power failed. Lisa had even made certain to cover her bases in terms of secrecy, enough that I had to stretch my imagination to find objections in the arena of keeping my participation secret. There wouldn’t be cameras, there wouldn’t be any circumstances that specifically called for the use of my power. I could probably make a second, even shittier costume just for this job and go through it without ever using my power if all went well.

But participating without risk was meaningless if I didn’t also accomplish my objective and find a way to capture the Undersiders. Maybe an opportunity would arise during the plan if they separated or if something else went wrong that I could capitalize on, but those seemed less likely. The best opportunity I could see was on the return. They planned to drive out to the casino in vans, use Bitch’s dogs for the job, then shrink them back down and return in the vans. Sabotaging the vans wouldn’t stop them when they had the dogs to ride, but it would leave them exposed as they tried to make their way back to Brockton, especially if I managed to place a call to the Protectorate in the middle of the job. Lisa had mentioned they wouldn’t make it to the casino in time, but they’d certainly have a chance of intercepting the large and obvious mutant dogs making a beeline to the city.

Or I had the option of just calling it now. Walking away with the information I’d gotten to trade in to the PRT and hope that was enough. That was… not a satisfying thought. It was certainly my safest option, but it meant relying on the hope that what I’d learned wasn’t already documented in their professional files. The only tidbit I was certain they didn’t have was Lisa’s identity.

As if knowing I was thinking about her, Lisa looked over to me and shot me a grin. I’d tried to keep thinking about her as Tattletale, but she still hadn’t replaced her mask. The first and only other time I’d seen her had been in the poor light of the Trainyard, making this my first chance to get a good look at her. Her eyes were bottle-glass green, a shade I hadn’t seen often before, and her face was dusted with freckles, though most would have been hidden beneath the mask.

It jarred me a little just how normal she looked. She was pretty, sure, but I wouldn’t have thought twice if I saw her shopping at the Market or passing me in the hall at Winslow. But here she was, planning to rob a casino and laying out plans for how to avoid superheroes.

“So!” Lisa said, clapping her hands and shaking me out of my thoughts. “I think we’ve got everything covered. Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Bitch said, pushing herself to her feet. “We still don’t need _her_ here.”

She jabbed a finger at me, her scowl deepening as she glared at me.

“Bitch.” Grue said warningly.

She kept talking, ignoring him. “She’s not important to the plan, we can get it done without having to bring along some dead weight.”

“ _Bitch_.” Grue repeated, more firmly this time. “We’ve had this discussion, and everyone but you voted in favor of bringing her along. _Drop it_.”

Bitch clearly didn’t want to drop it. From the way she was glaring at me, I was surprised a blood vessel wasn’t bursting in her eye. To the side, the shadowy form of Grue moved a step closer to her. She glanced sideways at him and the laser focus of her anger seemed to break. Bitch sat down heavily in her chair, still fuming but clearly having ceded the argument.

“Though we still haven’t gotten the most important vote.” Lisa said. She turned towards me with a smile, a more genuine one than the self-satisfied grins she’d been making while she planned. “So how about it? Want to help us rob a casino?”

I considered the question, though my mind was already all but made up. If I wanted even a hope of trying to bring down the Undersiders, or even just of gathering more information, I needed to go on the job with them. And the job itself was sound, enough that I was reasonably certain I wouldn’t be linked to it afterwards.

Or I could not do this and be back to facing a long and arduous slog to build up a reputation, only vaguely bolstered by a few tidbits of information on the Undersiders, most of which probably wouldn’t remain relevant for long.

“Alright,” I said, taking the plunge, “I’m in.”

There was no cheer of joy from the assembled villains, only a few monosyllabic expressions of satisfaction, with the exception of Bitch. Lisa’s smile grew wider. “Glad to have you on-board, Aberration.”

She turned back to the Undersiders. “I think that does it for the meeting. You guys can head back, I just have to settle up some stuff with our new friend first.”

Part of me wanted to object to that. We weren’t friends, this was just a business arrangement. But another part of me wasn’t about to object to someone calling me a friend, especially since there wasn’t even a hint of sarcasm when she’d said it.

Bitch wasted no time in showing herself away from the table and stalking off. Her chair fell over behind her, but she didn’t even look back. Her three dogs trailed after her, followed by a lazily stretching Regent. Grue didn’t follow immediately, instead grabbing the assorted papers and tubes from the table. He left a minute later, leaving behind only one sheaf of papers and the few remaining slices of pizza in the box.

Lisa watched them go, then turned back to me. “Just thought you might feel better talking about our deal without all of them here.”

“Yeah.” I said appreciatively. “So…”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to ask about betrayal issue, but at the same time I felt like even mentioning it would cause problems, even if she was the one who had first raised the idea to me.

“I want to have an alibi.” I said instead. “The night of the job. Just a couple of hours before, give me a drug house or something to bust. Nothing too big, just something that would make sense.”

Lisa nodded. “Yeah, I can do that no problem. But in the short term…”

She reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out an envelope, sliding it to me on the table. “I went with a median amount based on out past jobs. One point four thousand dollars, as requested.”

My eyes widened as I grabbed the envelope. I hesitated for a moment before tearing it open and checking inside. It was filled with fifty-dollar bills that I quickly counted. It was just like she’d said. It was hard to wrap my head around. That one envelope had almost three times as much money as I’d ever had in my bank account.

What could I even do with this? Pay for self defense classes, for one. The first aid class I’d taken on the weekends was great and all, but it wouldn’t help me if someone ever managed to get past my minions to me. Or maybe I could just buy a taser. Hell, I could buy a dozen!

Or I could buy nothing, since she’d gotten this money to pay me with from other crimes, I reminded myself. Still, I wasn’t about to just hand it over to the police. An envelope of probably stolen cash couldn’t really help them all that much, right? I was fighting gangsters essentially on my own, I might as well use it to help myself.

“And one more thing before you go.” Tattletale said. She grabbed the papers Grue had left behind and held them out to me. On them were simplified images of a human body, ranging from full body shots to closeups of heads and hands. Each was also connected to numerous empty boxes by dotted lines that seemed to wrap around various body parts. The papers showed, in essence a blank slate.

Lisa smiled at me. “You get to design your costume.”


	17. Snarl 3.4

The Merchants were disorganized, chaotic. There was no coordination in their tactics, and even saying they had tactics was generous. It was pretty much a free-for-all as each of them went for whatever caught their attention. Some tried to run, some tried to fight, some grabbed whatever drugs they could. Overall, it made them easy pickings. I barely even had to pay attention to what they were doing to direct my savages to round them up and subdue them.  
  
Which was not what I wanted. The Undersiders loomed in my mind. The planned casino robbery was less than an hour away. A knot of unease churned in my gut as I tried to focus on the here and now, but inevitably found my thoughts drawn back to my plan.  
  
It had seemed… well, not _simpler_ , but less real just a few hours earlier, much less when I’d first agreed to it a week ago. Agreeing to join a robbery so I could take out the robbers in the middle of it… I could have called it too high risk, settled on the long way to earning reputation instead of one big moment. For that matter, I still could have. I had a verbal agreement with the Undersiders, but that could hardly bind me to anything. It wasn’t like a group of villains was going to take me to court for breach of contract anyways.  
  
I put aside those thoughts. I had decided on a course of action and I would see it through. Go with the Undersiders, sabotage the plan, sabotage them. The Merchants were nearly wrapped up, so I directed a savage to dial 911 on one of their phones. I didn’t bother bringing it to me this time, the police could track the call easily enough and the yelling from the Merchants would be enough to give them cause to. Their testimony would suffice to establish my presence here and give me an alibi for the night given my established pattern of activities. Though hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.  
  
I headed away towards the meeting place, leaving the savages to watch over the Merchants as an eye-spy circled over me. A week had given me plenty of time to go over the plan myself, figuring out the most vulnerable points and comparing it to what I could find on the Undersiders. I was certain Tattletale was doing much the same thing on me.  
  
For how this would all go down, information was key. The forums and wiki had information on the Undersiders, but as in the case of Regent, there were gaps. Some were things I could work around. Knowing Grue’s preferred tactics or how long Bitch’s power could amp up a dog would have been nice to know but weren’t strictly crucial. Others were more prominent. Regent had been one of those, but I knew his power now. They could have been lying of course, but with the way he reacted to Grue telling me and his general personality, I got the sense that it had been genuine.  
  
That left Tattletale as the big question mark. The planning session had helped a lot with that. She’d made references to her power helping her with combinations, understanding the breakers, and mapping out routes, enough to firmly cement her as a Thinker rather than a pure Trump. That still made her a hazard if she could turn that nebulous Thinker ability on me or my power, but the general plan had notably kept her out of the front line of the fighting. Either her power wasn’t the kind that helped in combat or she was willing to throw her entire team off their usual balance just to mislead me.  
  
On the other side, whatever plans Tattletale surely had depended on her knowledge of me. I was still certain she had some source in the PRT, but I’d been exceedingly careful to make sure the extent of my powers remained hidden. I had eye-spies stay out of sight, kept shifters for concealment and movement rather than sending them in to attack, sent beetleings in only to sabotage when there was no one around to see. To the best of my knowledge, only my savages were known to the PRT outside of whatever the Merchants might have said about beetleings after my first night out.  
  
That would leave Tattletale with whatever she’d been able to gather on me herself. With my habit of monitoring the area around me through an eye-spy I could be reasonably certain that she hadn’t had a chance to observe me outside of our two in-person interactions, but her unknown power meant she might know all the cards I kept up my sleeves anyways. To be on the safe side, I was assuming none of my minions would come as a surprise to her, which limited my options. Which brought me back to the ideas I’d been turning over and refining for the past week.  
  
Through my eye-spy, I could see the van waiting at the agreed upon meeting place. I checked my watch for the time. It was a recent purchase, one that I’d gouged the last of my bank money for, but I hadn’t wanted to spend the money Tattletale had given me. I’d taken that money mainly out of a desire to make use of Faultline’s advice and make sure that humiliating trip hadn’t been entirely a waste, but actually spending it felt like it would be crossing yet another line into outright benefitting from their crimes.  
  
Quandaries of morals and earnings aside, it was a good watch for its price, waterproof and rugged, and it told time accurately. At that particular moment, it told me the time was a good ten minutes before I was meant to meet up with the van, a time that was still earlier than I was usually out in costume. It had been risky to slip out earlier like this, but it had been necessary to fit in my alibi strike before the job itself. Getting out without Dad noticing had been made greatly easier with an eye-spy I’d summoned in the afternoon, then positioned in a tree outside to watch through his window and tell me when he’d fallen asleep. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with blurring the separation between my two identities by using my power at home, but it had paid off.  
  
I leaned against a wall in an alley and considered my options. Waiting in a van would certainly be less suspicious than waiting in an alley for the cops to come collect the Merchants. But that would put me near the Undersiders, and I wasn’t quite ready to deal with that.  
  
Besides, this was my last chance to change my mind. Not go to the van, call the PRT instead, and watch the heroes come deal with the villains. Even as I considered it, I knew I wouldn’t do it. I ran through the same arguments as before, that the Undersiders were too good at escaping, that they had sources in the PRT. And of course, if I did that and it worked, I’d be back to square one, with no big victory to show the Protectorate and leverage into joining and with no source to feed me gang targets.  
  
I’d be going to the van as soon as the Merchants were collected. Which would be soon, as I could already hear police sirens through the savages watching the Merchants. If there was one benefit to having this many capes running around the city, it was that the police were very good at responding to anonymous calls about defeated criminals.  
  
Even after my deliberation it was still a few minutes early, but it was time to bite the bullet. I sent my eye-spy out in a larger pattern, sweeping the area. No snipers on the rooftops, no thugs in the alleys, no extra capes watching from windows. As far as I could tell, there was no ambush here, which meant no reason to keep delaying. I took a deep breath and started walking to the van. The short distance seemed to stretch on much farther as I approached, thinking over last-minute alternate plans and regrets. I wished I didn’t have to go in person, or that I had more options to work with once things were set into motion. But my power was what it was, and it was up to me to make the most of it.  
  
I felt my power roil, occasionally surging up as I thought, but nothing took form. Maybe I wasn’t focusing enough, or maybe I just wasn’t in the right situation for it to activate with something new. It was a bit disappointing in that it didn’t supply me with a last-minute trump card, though it did save me from creating a minion in the middle of the street by accident.  
  
As I reached the van, I dismissed two of the four savages I had watching over the bound Merchants. If things went poorly here, I wanted the openings for anything new I needed to summon. Besides, I could hear through the remaining savages that the police were pulling up outside. The situation with the Merchants was nearly resolved and my power would soon be wholly freed up. I knocked on the back door of the van, only for it to swing open before my knuckles could even strike the second time.  
  
Regent sat alone in the back of the van, holding the door open for me. At the front in the driver’s seat sat Tattletale. No, not Tattletale, she wasn’t wearing her mask.  
  
Lisa looked over her shoulder and grinned at me. “There you are. Ready to get started?”  
  
I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded as I got into the van.  
  
“Awesome.” She said, turning back to the steering wheel. “Then let’s get this show on the road!”  
  
The van rumbled to life and pulled out into the street. As we began the drive, I brought my eye-spy down and had it cling to the top of the van like a misshapen bat. Through my two savages I could hear the police approaching their position, so I dismissed them as well. I wanted to be able to fill this van with as many savages as I could if things seemed off. My eye-spy helped me track where we were going and make sure Lisa wasn’t taking us somewhere other than the planned destination.  
  
Multiple precautions, but they still didn’t help dissuade my nervousness. I compensated by staying as still as I could, hoping to avoid giving away my nervousness by fidgeting. It didn’t work, as Lisa glanced back at me with the mirror on the windshield.  
  
“You’re looking pretty stiff there, Aberration.” Lisa said. “You nervous?”  
  
I made a noncommittal noise in reply, which she seemed to take as an affirmation. “Yeah,” She laughed, “First big job out, I got like that too. Nearly threw up on Grue’s boots during the getaway.”  
  
Regent laughed. “Really? You never told us that. Man, I wish you had just so I could have seen his reaction.”  
  
“I’m glad I didn’t, I would have had to pay for his new boots.” Lisa replied. “Though speaking of wardrobes, what’s going on with you Aberration? Not wearing the new costume?”  
  
“Sort of.” I said, trying to avoid getting drawn into the conversation without coming across as suspiciously standoffish.  
  
I was wearing my original costume, more or less. I’d re-dyed it yesterday to give it a new design on the off chance that someone had seen me in it before. Rather than the assorted dark blotches that formed a rudimentary camouflage pattern, it was now colored in long stripes of black and dark grey. The overall impression was similar to a tiger, though it was only after it was finished that I realized it bore some faint similarity to the Siberian and her infamous striped skin. The thought hadn’t been a pleasant one, but it had given me the idea to use the red dye to color my gloves and a patch over my heart. Meaningless details, unless one remembered the same specific news image that had stuck in my head as a kid, but they were ones that would draw the eye and stand out in memories if someone tried to describe me. And as I planned for this to be the last outing with this costume, with those color details discarded along with it, it provided me with yet another layer to distance myself from the upcoming robbery. A particularly paranoid one considering I planned to be in the Wards after the robbery, but my fear of the plan going wrong was enough to convince me to do it.  
  
Underneath that I wore the new costume. It had arrived just two days ago and Tattletale had left it at a drop off point yesterday night. I didn’t want to wear it, as that would make it unusable without connecting me to the casino robbery, but it had armor and I wasn’t willing to pass that up given the possibility of violence. It wasn’t fully extensive armor, as I’d had neither the time nor the budget to get that for tonight, but it had a durable mesh woven through key parts of it that would help with knives and similar attacks. It was hot wearing layers like this but I’d put up with it for the peace of mind the extra protection brought me. The only signs I was wearing it was where the fabric of my hoodie bunched between my shoulder blades and the small of my back, places where portions of the costume were attached but couldn’t really fit properly under my other costume.  
  
I held up my hand and pulled my sleeve down a bit, showing Lisa the fabric of my new costume underneath. She glanced back in the mirror and nodded, as if she completely understood after that one brief glance. And given her power, she very well might have.  
  
“Cool. Want to go over the plan again?”  
  
“Do you have to?” Regent groaned. “We’ve run through it enough that I hear it in my sleep, I really don’t want to hear it _again_ because the guest star can’t remember it.”  
  
“I’m fine.” I said. “I remember it.”  
  
“Alright.” Lisa said, drumming her fingers on the wheel. Through my eye-spy I could see we were leaving Brockton Bay, heading in the direction of the casino. Everything seemed to be going on-track so far. “Want to talk about something else then? There’s not a lot of topics we can cover without edging close to identities, but if you’ve read any books or seen a movie lately-”  
  
“No thank you.” I said. “If it’s okay, I really just want some time to think.”  
  
Lisa nodded. “Last minute thinking, I get that. No problem.”  
  
The van fell silent save for the rumble of the engine and the faint noises from the hand-held game system Regent had pulled out of somewhere, leaving me to my thoughts. The route was the one that had been planned, and if everything else was similarly on track, the second van with Grue, Bitch, and the dogs would be meeting us at the casino.  
  
The van situation was a bit of an annoyance. It kept the Undersiders separated, which meant that bringing down a single vehicle wouldn’t get the whole group. On the other hand, it meant that if the van I was in went down, Regent and Lisa wouldn’t have immediate access to Bitch’s dogs for transport, making them all the easier for the Protectorate to snag as they responded to the casino.  
  
I did my best to ignore the twinge of guilt I felt when considering how the heroes would get Lisa, a twinge that hadn’t been there earlier when I was going over the plan. Though I had been thinking of her as Tattletale then.  
  
I glanced at her as she drove. Still no mask, still Lisa. Damn it.  
  
I made myself focus back on my plan. Snag a phone and call the PRT during the robbery, sabotage the vans after the getaway was underway, and then help the PRT take the Undersiders down as they made an extremely conspicuous run for the city on the backs of mutant dogs. It was a relatively simple plan, but it depended on a few things. I had to have access to a phone and I had to be able to get a beetleing into each van, to name the big ones. Lisa would be my biggest obstacle. Whatever the specifics of her power, she might know if I’d called the cops or snuck a beetleing into a van’s undercarriage. So for my best chances of success, I had to be ready to capitalize on any opportunity to take her out.  
  
Which was a plan with its own challenges. If the Undersider’s plan went off flawlessly, she’d never get in a fight, which meant I wouldn’t get a chance to try and evaluate the danger she posed in combat. Though keeping her on the backlines was an indication of its own, especially considering the Undersider’s habit of fleeing rather than fighting, I still couldn’t discount the possibility that it was a deliberate gambit to hide the scope of her abilities. Whatever her capabilities, they were hopefully less than enough to deal with a pack of savages appearing around her to beat her down. But the Undersiders worked as a group, so it was likely I’d have to deal with at least one of them at the same time or within a close timeframe of dealing with Lisa.  
  
Regent was the most likely to be an obstacle. Like me, he had no fixed role in the plan, serving more as free-floating support for either Lisa or Grue and Bitch as needed. Theoretically he could end up supporting the brute force group while I stayed behind with Lisa, but I didn’t think Lisa was dumb enough to leave herself alone with me.  
  
I’d spend quite some time considering his power. Minor control over other’s reflexes had sounded weak at first, but the more time I’d had to consider it the more possibilities I came up with. There had been no mention of his limits, whether in terms of how many people he affected at one or how many reflexes he could trigger in one target at once. Depending on what his limits were, he might be able to send a whole crowd tumbling to the ground with one use of his power on everyone in it, or trap one person in near paralytic spasms from the sheer number of triggered reflexes. Grue had described it as minor, so I didn’t believe these were likely, but there were still many uses for such a power. If he reacted fast enough he could ensure any attack against him missed, keep himself in blind spots by taking control of someone’s blinking, or mute someone trying to shout an alarm. Hell, the heart functioned entirely by automatic reflexes. If things came down to the wire, could he send someone into cardiac arrest? Would he? Hopefully during the initial stages of the plan and encounters with guards, I’d be able to see how he worked in a fight and get a better handle on his capabilities. Until then, I planned to incapacitate him as soon as possible if an opportunity presented itself.  
  
Grue was similarly threatening, though in a different way. He’d been a mercenary for years, which meant he did his job well enough that people kept hiring him. Based on the plan, he was apparently good enough that he was going to be dealing with guards alongside giant monster dogs. It was impossible to tell how much of that was him as a combatant and how much was his power, but I still didn’t want to get in a real fight with him.  
  
The problem was that his power made that idea tricky. If a fight started and he wasn’t immediately dealt with, he could black out a whole area. From seeing him during the planning meeting, his costume was just a layer of his power covering his own body, including his face, which meant he could see through it. That same meeting had also proven that my eye-spy’s nightvision couldn’t see through it. So if a fight broke out and he blanketed the whole area in his power, it would leave him as the one combatant who could see. Maybe I could deal with that with a full crowd of savages in an enclosed space that limited his avenues form maneuvering or escape, but I didn’t want to risk it. Dealing with him required the first blow to be decisive, either immobilizing or defeating him in the first attack.  
  
Bitch was the other heavy hitter that I needed to watch out for. In a way, she was like me. No powers that made her a direct threat, though she seemed like she could probably still punch my face in if needed through entirely mundane muscle. Instead we were both commanders of a sort, relying on Master minions for power. Unlike me, her power enhanced rather than created. Removing her dogs from the equation essentially made her a normal person, but I’d rather avoid that if possible. Instead I wanted to focus on Bitch.  
  
Bitch was a lynchpin, both for her power and for the Undersiders. Taking her down would incapacitate her power, though I wasn’t certain of the form that would take. Maybe the dogs would revert to normal, maybe they would just go off the leash, but either way they’d lose much of their usefulness to the Undersiders. In either case, taking out Bitch would leave the Undersiders with no transportation if I sabotaged the vans as well. The optimal time would be at the beginning or end of the robbery, where she either hadn’t amped up her dogs yet or was powering them down so they could fit in the van.  
  
All in all, my situation was a tenuous one. Four capes to account for, all problematic in their own way. Once I started I’d have to move fast so they couldn’t catch on. Grue and Bitch posed the greatest physical threat, while Lisa could likely realize what I was doing the fastest and warn the others. I had to account for who could warn who, the environment I’d have to deal with them in, and a myriad of other details I could only really grasp once it was happening. Dealing with them, sabotaging the vans, making sure I didn’t get lumped in with them by any witnesses. But really, once I’d looked over it all from a larger perspective, I’d realized I didn’t even need to get all of them.  
  
Turning over all of the Undersiders to the PRT would be a good way to get my foot in the door with the Wards, but shattering the group and capturing them piecemeal would also do nicely. Taking out half the Undersiders would leave the others weakened and give me an opportunity to track them down in the following days or weeks. And I was in a van with half the Undersiders right now.  
  
I considered the possibility again. In a confined space, without much avenue to flee or call for back-up, could I take down Regent and Lisa? I wanted to say yes, but I still hadn’t seen them in action. If I would try it now it would have to be with full force to avoid underestimating them, which could go very badly if that turned out to be too much, and that would still leave Grue and Bitch out there. With Grue’s darkness and the mobility of Bitch’s dogs, they could likely slip away if I tried calling the PRT to collect them at the arranged meeting place, assuming they didn’t bail as soon as the other van didn’t arrive as expected.  
  
No, I’d be in this same van in the same situation on the ride back if all went well. The only differences would be that then I’d know how they operated and I would have had an opportunity to try and track them to their hideout with an eye-spy. Well, the only differences relevant in the short term. There would also be the difference that I would be an accomplice to a felony then. But it was for a good cause. My hands would get dirty this once and then I’d be able to join the Wards. Besides, I wasn’t about to cave and settle for just the two of them without even trying for the full group. They could be a consolation prize if necessary, but I was going to aim for getting all four.  
  
I could see the lights of the casino through my eye-spy on the roof of the van, so I had it release and fly up into the air. I wanted a good look at the casino before things got started. Blueprints were all well and good, but it was hard to really get a grasp of a place by an arrangement of clinical white lines and measurements.  
  
The Ruby Dreams Casino was relatively isolated, surrounded only by a small collection of fast food places, a gas station, a hotel, and its parking complex. It was all a gambler needed to live near the source of their fix. The casino itself was separated from the other buildings by curated lawns and clusters of trees, which seemed starkly at odds with the neon signs decorating the building itself. The whole thing couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be classy or flashy and ended up only adequate at both.  
  
My perspective was limited by the eye-spy’s position, which was in turn limited by my range, but I could see the area behind the casino. A fenced off area of transformers and power cables, deliberately kept out of sight of the road and the casino’s patrons alike thanks to the positioning and design of the building. It was only thanks to the designer’s desire to keep the eyesore hidden, which was in turn only there because the casino was distanced from the city’s power grid, that the robbery was even possible.  
  
Even as I observed the casino through my eye-spy, I was tracking my position relative to it. The van was moving off the main road down a small side road. I looked past Lisa out the windshield to watch our progress. This road would take us around behind the casino, and from there it would just be a short walk through the trees to arrive behind the building.  
  
I could see the other van parked ahead, and Lisa pulled up alongside it. Regent looked up as we stopped and paused his game, dropping it on the seat as he stood up and stretched with a groan. Lisa pulled her mask from the glove compartment and put it on before turning around.  
  
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Tattletale said with a grin, “It’s showtime.”  
  
I hesitated as the two villains got out. This was it, my last chance to do something before the robbery started and I committed a crime. But it would hardly be a chance at all. All four of the Undersiders in one place? That would be a head-on attack, and a head-on attack would be idiotic. My whole plan revolved around separating them and exploiting circumstances to weaken and defeat them. I could deal with some unsavoriness if it meant doing this _right_.  
  
I brought my eye-spy down towards us in a dive before having it pull up and perch in a tree. Unlike the city, the trees around us provided plenty of cover for my eye-spy to move closer without being obvious. So when I followed Tattletale and Regent out of the van, I already knew what I’d see.  
  
Grue and Bitch were waiting for us besides the other van. Grue looked just like he had before, with the addition that he had a pair of empty duffel bags slung over his shoulder and a third sitting at his feet. Bitch was leaning against the van next to him, her cheap plastic dog mask dangling from her hand. Surrounding them were Bitch’s three dogs. They were larger than I’d seen them before, enough that their shoulder level could have reached my ribs. Their skin was tougher, leathery, with spurs and spikes of bone in places, thick ridges that seemed to be more like an armored shell in others. The changes seemed asymmetrical, and I knew from pictures and news reports that their current state was far from Bitch’s limits. They could become the size of cars, with those growths increasing into full-fledged armor, jagged spines, and a number of other mutations that left them barely resembling dogs at all. But the plan called for the group to enter through a maintenance door and travel through the back hallways, which meant they had to stay smaller or else be unable to fit. An element in my favor once it came time to make my move.  
  
Each dog had a harness slung around its body, with the long excess of the straps wrapped around to stop them from dangling to the ground. Presumably they could be expanded to fit the dogs’ larger forms, but right now they just needed to be large enough to allow each dog to carry a duffel bag on the way out.  
  
The mass of darkness that was Grue’s head turned to look over us, giving me a glimpse of a black skull when his smoky power pulled in closer to his head. “No problems?” he asked in that echoing voice of his.  
  
Tattletale shook her head with a grin. “Nope, we’re good to go!”  
  
I didn’t miss the subtext of the exchange. I hadn’t made any moves to betray them yet, and Tattletale had picked up on it. Presumably Grue had been asking about that, but I couldn’t be certain how much he knew about what Tattletale had offered me to get me to come tonight. Paranoia made me assume that all the Undersiders were in on the offer Tattletale had made, but with how vocal Bitch had been against my presence, I couldn’t believe she’d know about that and hadn’t brought it up as an argument against me, which raised doubts about how much Regent and Grue knew as well.  
  
And on the topic of Bitch, her lack of a mask made her glare particularly obvious. My first instinct was to look away, ingrained by months of bullying, but I wasn’t Taylor right now. I met her gaze levelly, and even with the goggles obscuring my eyes I remained unblinking.  
  
“Alright then.” Grue said. “Let’s go.”  
  
Bitch was forced to break off the staring contest as she put on her mask, and I took advantage of the break in her gaze to look away and follow the other Undersiders as they began to move. Bitch sent her dogs to the front of the group, directing them to lead the way on the approach to the casino. No one talked, the only noise being the sound of leaves and twigs underfoot. Or at least it was for the most part.  
  
I cast a glance at Grue, who moved with an eerie silence despite the terrain. Could it be a second power? Being able to dampen either sound or light would be a useful trick, and zones of silence would certainly be less noticeable than clouds of darkness. If I was him, I would certainly use the darkness to hide the secondary power. I’d have to reconsider the details of my plan. If he could nullify sound, I’d have to be careful if he decided to sneak up on me. And if it came down to the wire and he was still up and about, I couldn’t count of a panicked call to the PRT if he could prevent me from speaking.  
  
I filed those thoughts to the back of my mind as we reached the border of the woods behind the casino. I could concern myself with that later. Right now I needed to focus on the plan. If things went wrong now, they’d just retreat to the vans and I’d be forced to try for the consolation prize.  
  
Grue held out an arm and thin tendrils of darkness snaked out along the ground. They quickly covered the distance between the woods and the casino, streaking up the wall as they collided and angling towards the two cameras covering the power area. As they reached their targets they bloomed into spheres of darkness, encompassing and blinding the cameras.  
  
Tattletale was already on the move. She ran to the fence, quickly appraising it before pointing to one particular session. At a whistle from Bitch, one of her dogs charged forward, growing with every step. By the time it reached its desination its shoulder was as tall as me. It hit the fence like a bulldozer, popping the two poles out of the ground where two separate patches of fence overlapped and leaving an opening a person could easily squeeze through.  
  
Tattletale moved through the gap, followed by Bitch and one of her dogs, the latter of which forced the gap open wide as it bent the fence with its passage. Tattletale moved through the assorted transformers and other pieces of electrical infrastructure, looking over each in turn.  
  
“Any time now.” Grue said.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Tattletale said absentmindedly. “I found what I need. Bitch, come here. When I say so, break these boxes.”  
  
Tattletale pointed to a series of transformers before moving to a metal frame by the wall of the casino, just a few steps away from the service door. Affixed to the frame was a panel locked with a combination padlock. For a moment I was afraid she knew about the beetleings and was about to ask me to open it for her. But she began to turn the dial herself and it snapped open a second later.  
  
Curious. That had to be a result her power, in a similar vein to how she’d claimed her power could give her the combination to a vault door. Did it supply her with whatever numbers she needed, even for abstract problems like a combination to a lock? It would certainly be an unusual power, but there were capes out there whose powers only functioned when they were embarrassed or only affected a single specific material, so unusual didn’t mean impossible.  
  
She tossed the lock over her shoulder and looked over a series of switches inside, then flipped several. “Now!” She called.  
  
Bitch gave a series of brisk whistles, each followed by a name and a pointing finger at a particular mechanism Tattletale had pointed out. “Brutus! Angelica! Judas!”  
  
The dogs pounced on command, crushing the boxes beneath their weight. No sparks issued from the destruction, which was to be expected after Tattletale used the maintenance panel to divert the power flow to others. But as the dogs backed away from the destruction they’d caused, Tattletale flipped the switches back and redirected power back through the ruined transformers.  
  
Now sparks shot from the boxes, making me glad I hadn’t yet stepped into the area. It only lasted for a second before stopping. At the same time, through my eye-spy I could see the lights of the casino flicker off. Less than a second later a different section of the power area roared to life and the lights came back on. The casino was on generator power now. The patrons wouldn’t much care so long as their games continued, but the staff would notice and send someone to check on the problem.  
  
Grue left the bags with Bitch and moved to flank the door along with Regent, leaving Bitch, Tattletale, and me to generally wait around until the maintenance door opened and gave us our way in. I considered taking this time to summon a beetleing to send back to the vans, then decided against it. I’d been vocal enough about not using my power where it could be identified that it would raise suspicions to use it now, plus they’d notice if it didn’t follow us into the building.  
  
I tried to take the time to examine Grue and Regent to determine something about their plan of attack, but found myself thinking in circles. I was too tightly wound right now to really get anything useful out of my attempts at analysis with the little I had to go on. The observation that Regent was holding his scepter like a weapon but not like a club just let me to run through every possibility I could think of to explain the behavior, over and over without actually getting anything useful out of it.  
  
Luckily I didn’t have to wait long. The door creaked open and a main in a utility uniform walked out looking at a clipboard and talking over his shoulder to someone behind him. He was only a few steps out the door and looking up when Grue was on him. With the billowing darkness, which only surged up further as he grabbed the man, I couldn’t see what exactly he was doing but it looked like a choke hold.  
  
The door began to swing shut as whoever was behind him turned to run, but Regent grabbed the door and flung it open. I heard a loud thud as the running person fell bodily to the floor. Reflex control and running didn’t seem to mix. Regent took a few steps into the hallway and jabbed down with his scepter, then danced back to shove his foot in the gap of the door before it could swing closed.  
  
A few seconds later Grue let the other man sag to the ground unconscious. “Let’s go.” He said.  
  
Regent held the door open and gave an overly dramatic bow as Bitch’s dogs entered the casino, followed closely by Bitch herself. I ignored the instruction for the time being and knelt beside the man Grue had just choked out.  
  
“What are you doing?” Grue asked me. “We’re on a clock.”  
  
“Just a second.” I responded. The man seemed to be breathing fine, so I rolled him onto his side and arranged his limbs in the recovery position. I was very conscious of Grue watching me, so I suppressed the urge to pat the man down for a phone.  
  
As I was about to get up, Tattletale leaned past me to grab the man’s outstretched arm and use a zip tie to secure his wrist to the base of the frame holding the maintenance panel.  
  
“Hey!” I protested. “You already knocked him out, you don’t have to tie him up!”  
  
“He won’t be asleep forever.” Tattletale replied. “We have to make sure he doesn’t go running off once he wakes up. We also have to make sure…”  
  
She trailed off as she reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone with a grin before pocketing it. “He doesn’t just call the cops.” Despite the words, her grin made it clear she knew what I’d been trying.  
  
I didn’t give her the satisfaction of answering as I stood and followed Bitch into the building. The hallway was dimly lit, with no decoration. It was only one step above being a bare concrete tunnel, a far cry from the opulent decorations of the main room I could see through the five story tall window-wall that dominated the front of the building.  
  
The other guard was lying on the floor, unconscious, with the scattered remains of a broken phone beside him and one of his hands ziptied to an exposed pipe running from floor to ceiling. I’d only seen Regent jab the scepter at him, and yet he was unconscious, which narrowed down some of my suspicions about it. A built-in tranquilizer injector maybe, or a particularly strong taser. I knelt beside him and put him into recovery position as best I could with his secured hand. If I was going to be here for this, I was going to do my best to minimize the harm caused.  
  
Tattletale and Grue stepped in behind me, the door swinging shut behind them. “You know where you’re going?” Grue asked.  
  
“Yeah.” Tattletale replied.  
  
“Good. Go deal with the breakers, we’ll get the security office. Meet us there once you’re done. Bitch, with me.”  
  
Grue headed off along with Bitch and her trio of mutant dogs, leaving me with Tattletale and Regent. Tattletale moved off in a different direction with Regent, leaving me to decide which of the groups to accompany. With Grue and Bitch headed to the security office, going with them would give me better opportunities to snag a phone or trip an alarm. On the other hand, letting Tattletale deal with the breakers without me there to keep an eye on her was just begging for her to leave the security feeds on and put me on video with the Undersiders.  
  
I moved to follow Tattletale and Regent. The path led down a service corridor, even more barren than the one we’d entered through. The walk was silent, save for Regent’s quiet humming. I couldn’t quite make out the tune, but I suspected it belonged to the game he’d been playing on the way here.  
  
Tattletale stopped at a door marked with a yellow warning sign for electricity. She pulled out a key ring and spun it on her finger before selecting a key and unlocking the door. Whether that was a lucky guess or a use of her power I couldn’t be sure.  
  
She looked back and noticed me staring at the keys. “Snagged ‘em off the maintenance guy.” She said, answering a different question.  
  
Tattletale used a second one to open up a large panel in the power room, revealing a large array of switches. She barely even glanced at them before flipping one after another with a dramatic flourish. “Aaand, done!” she said as she flipped the last one. “Aberration, want to check my work?”  
  
I cast her a suspicious glance and stepped forward to read over the now turned-off breakers. Each was labeled with a letter-number combo, but I remembered the key ones from the planning session. Security office, money storage, alarm subsystems….  
  
Everything that had been planned to be deactivated was deactivated, and nothing extra had been flipped. Unless Tattletale had forged an entire fake set of blueprints for the planning session, complete with false electrical records, everything was safely on plan. I gave her a curt nod.  
  
She clearly wasn’t expecting any more from me, because she turned on her heel and started walking out of the room. “Let’s go meet up with the others.” She said over her shoulder. “Though Aberration, if you wanted to leave something behind to guard the breakers, that would help stop someone else from coming along and flipping them back.”  
  
I hesitated mid-step. Tattletale was already out of the room, with Regent close behind her. I looked over the room for security cameras, and found none. I hesitated for a moment more, then used my power.  
  
Two beetleings formed within the breaker room and I immediately had them scurry for hiding places. I stepped out of the room before Tattletale or Regent could turn around, pulling the door closed behind me. I gave it an experimental tug to make sure it was locked, then hurried to follow them.  
  
Tattletale made a good point. Keeping the breakers secure would ensure some random janitor wouldn’t just turn all the alarms back on and get me trapped along with a group of super villains in a casino vault. But that wasn’t my main reason. Tattletale had just given me what I’d been hoping for: a chance to use my power without any of the Undersiders around to witness. The least I could do was make use of it.  
  
Once we were far enough down the hall to be back where we’d entered, I reached out to one of the beetleings. On my command it crawled out of its hiding place and sought an air vent. In a matter of seconds it had pried it out of the wall and was crawling into the ducts, seeking the outside. One beetleing would be enough to watch the fuses. The other would seek out the vans and nestle in the underbelly of one, prepped for sabotage as soon as I sent the order.  
  
Ahead, I could see Grue and Bitch in the hall along with the mutant dogs. “Guards are taken care of, security console’s trashed.” Grue said.  
  
I peeked in the open door to the security office beside him. Inside, half a dozen security guards sat back to back, all zip-tied together. Two walls of the room were dominated by what had been computer consoles, which were now little more than wrecks of broken glass and metal.  
  
“Satisfied?” Grue asked. I started a little when I realized the question was directed at me.  
  
“What?” I asked.  
  
“No one’s severely hurt, consoles really are trashed.” Grue said. Even through the unnatural tone of his voice, I got the sense he was exasperated. “Are you satisfied?”  
  
I nodded and he held up a hand, filling the security room with darkness before closing the door and making sure it was locked.  
  
The Undersiders moved forwards towards the goal. Bitch’s dogs led, followed closely after by Bitch and Grue, with Tattletale and Regent trailing behind and me bringing up the rear. It was seeming more and more likely that I wouldn’t get the chance to get all of them during the robbery itself. It would have to be during the getaway.  
  
The group turned down the last corridor and I followed them. This was it, the final stretch before the safe. It was lit only by the lights from the adjoining hallway, making it harder to see as we approached the safe. I could see the slots where security doors would fall from the ceiling. Or perhaps where they still could, if I reactivated power to this hallway.  
  
A plan started forming in my mind. I’d have to be careful, getting trapped in the same stretch of hallway with the wrong portion of the group could end poorly for me. But if I waited until they were in the safe itself, then bolted for the end of the hall and dropped the doors, I could put a few between me and them. If I was fast enough, I might even be able to avoid getting caught at all, leaving me free to go call the PRT while the Undersiders were left to wait for the authorities to collect them.  
  
I was broken out of my thoughts by a loud curse. Turning my attention back to the Undersiders in the present, I found Tattletale examining the safe door by the light of a flashlight held by Regent. It looked like a smaller version of the bank vaults that showed up on TV, save that it was the size of a normal door rather than an entire wall. It was made out of shining steel with a number of fancy wheels and bolts, with an electronic keypad at the center of it.  
  
It was that last feature that was eliciting the cursing. “I thought you said it was analog!” Grue said, barely restraining his frustration to avoid yelling.  
  
“It was supposed to be!” Tattletale shot back.  
  
“Well last I checked, a thumbprint scanner isn’t analog!”  
  
“This is a new addition, put in sometime last week. None of the documents we had could have indicated this!”  
  
“Well, great.” Regent drawled. “Looks like we have another addition to the ‘TT was wrong’ list.”  
  
“Not helping!” Tattletale snapped. “Give me time to think.”  
  
“We can still bust down the door.” Bitch suggested.  
  
Grue shook his head. “Not quietly, and not quickly enough. Heroes would be here before we could get in and we’d have to abandon the score.” He turned towards me. “Aberration, can you do anything about the door?”  
  
I shook my head. “No, nothing I can do.”  
  
It was only after I said it that I realized it was actually true. A beetleing could probably break the keypad, but that would just leave it sealed with no way to open it. Which, come to think of it, would be a good way to ensure they didn’t get anything out of this.  
  
Bitch scoffed. “Figures. Why the fuck did we bring her, anyways?”  
  
“Shut up!” Tattletale said, turning back to the group. “New plan. There has to be people in the building at all times who can open the vault. The money handlers could do it, but we can’t get to them without getting seen by the people in the casino. We need to go to the top.”  
  
“Oh no.” Grue said.  
  
“ _Yes_.” Tattletale said with urgency. “There’s no way the guy in charge can’t open the safe in his own building, and there’s got to be _someone_ working the night shift up there. We grab them, flip power back on to this hall, then get them to open the door for us.”  
  
“Fine.” Grue sighed before looking over the group. “Bitch’s dogs won’t be able to get upstairs, so I’ll wait here with her. Take Regent, bring our guy back.”  
  
I saw my chance. “I’ll go with them.”  
  
Grue gave a brisk nod as he leaned against the wall to wait, arms folded over his chest. Even through the shroud of his darkness, he seemed on edge. I followed Tattletale and Regent again, this time to an elevator.  
  
“An elevator?” I said skeptically. “This doesn’t seem like a good idea.”  
  
“Don’t worry.” Tattletale said, waving a hand dismissively. “I know a trick.”  
  
Thankfully the elevator was empty when it arrived. We got in, with Tattletale handling the buttons. “See, just hold the buttons to close the door and the floor you want to go to and…”  
  
The elevator doors closed and it slid into motion. Tattletale released the buttons with a grin. “One stop trip with no interruptions! It’s the same trick the police use.”  
  
Unlike TV, there was no elevator music to break the silence and distract myself from the fact that I was sealed in a box with two villains I planned to betray. Luckily, I had my thoughts to distract me.  
  
This was almost perfect. With the Undersiders split up I could deal with them piecemeal, and the circumstances were even better than I could have hoped for. Bitch and Grue, the two with the move firepower and the most potential for an escape, were waiting by the safe, which meant they were waiting in a hallways that could be sealed off by security doors on a moment’s notice. All I had to do was deal with the Undersiders here with me, then get whoever was in the office to activate the security doors, then just wait for the to arrive.  
  
I glanced at Tattletale. Did she know what I was planning? She had to know I was up to something, but was she good enough to know exactly how I planned to do it?  
  
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. We stepped out into a hallway with plush carpet and nicely painted walls. It was leagues better than the service corridors, as to be expected when this hallway was meant for the upper crust of the casino’s employees. One wall was nothing but a solid row of windows opening into the interior of the casino and looking down at the tiers of slot machines and card tables to the main floor of the building.  
  
Tattletale pointed to a door at the other end of the hallway, ignoring all the others as well as the branching hallways. “Conference room, in use. The person we want’s in there.”  
  
She walked straight for it, Regent close behind as he twirled his scepter in one hand. I lagged a bit behind, checking over my connections. One eye-spy outside watching the casino, one beetleing in the breaker room, and one beetleing that by now was in the woods approaching the vans. I could drop the first two easily, the third if I had to. Now that I was away from Grue and Bitch I could summon another as soon as Tattletale and Regent were dealt with, but I wanted to keep it in reserve so that in case things went poorly for me, then at the very least I could screw with their escape plane.  
  
The conference room would be where I made my move. If there were any security guards in there, they would be a distraction, another facet of the situation the two Undersiders had to focus on. It helped, thinking of them like that, not even individuals but as part of the collective.  
  
I glanced at Tattletale again. Much easier to consider when thinking about Tattletale, the villain who planned a casino heist and had a habit of being far to smug. I tried not to think about Lisa, who joked about how I was her favorite vigilante and gave me advice for color schemes for my new costume.  
  
The pressure seemed to build with every step towards the conference room. I had to do this to become a Ward. I’d come this far, I refused to be stopped by my own hesitation. My power surged up, on a metaphorical hair-trigger. It was now or never.  
  
We reached the room. Tattletale flung the door open wide, with me and Regent flanking her. I took in the room in an instant, trying to evaluate what would work for me, my power already about to activate and begin my attack on Tattletale.  
  
What I saw stopped me cold. As Tattletale had indicated, the conference room was in use. On one side sat a man in a business suit who was clearly surprised at the interruption. Flanking him were several men who had to be bodyguards, all wearing neat suits with a tense air about them.  
  
The people at the other side of the table were far different. They wore an eclectic mix of clothing styles, their only unifying point being that their clothes all incorporated red and green and that they were all Asian.  
  
Standing at the front of the group was a man dressed in a black bodysuit. Bandoliers adorned his body, each laden with an assortment of knives and grenades. A Japanese-style mask covered his face, depicting a demonic face with a leering ear-to-ear grin full of fangs. It had the same color scheme as the men and women around him, primarily a deep crimson with a green stripe running down either side.  
  
Whatever Tattletale had been about to say died in her throat as Oni Lee turned towards us, a knife already in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently looking for a beta for this story, so if you're interested you can leave a comment and we'll talk.
> 
> Or just leave a comment in general. I'd like to improve my writing and make the story the best it can be, and feedback on what works and what doesn't is invaluable for that.


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